Exile Poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Exile
Rating: ★2.8
I chose the place where I would rest
When death should come to claim me,
With the red-rose roots to wrap my breast
And a quiet stone to name me.
But I am laid on a northern steep
With the roaring tides below me,
And only the frosts to bind my sleep,
And only the winds to know me.
Friday, January 3, 2003
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4/19/2024 10:48:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
''And only the frosts to bind my sleep, And only the winds to know me.'' romanticism is the key.. but with poignant and keen verse