Fall Poem by james watkin

Fall



From sapling, in a wind gust
To child sprout, midst what blows
Woeful sounding, in all troubles;
Helped back up, Heaven knows!
Save this. Again as world's theme
Bell-rung o'er thronged hoorays:
'Fallen, fallen is Babylon! '
Godless rule. For our day's.

Friday, March 31, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: fall
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
Close
Error Success