In The Mushroom Meadows - Poem by Thomas Walsh
Sun on the dewy grasslands where late the frost hath shone,
And lo, what elfin cities are these we come upon!
What pigmy domes and thatches, what Arab caravan,
What downy-roofed pagodas that have known no touch of man!
Are these the oldtime meadows? Yes, the wildgrape scents the air;
The breath of ripened orchards still is incense everywhere;
Yet do these dawn-encampments bring the lurking memories
Of Egypt and of Burma and the shores of China Seas.
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Thomas Walsh's Other Poems
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The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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