In The Warm Depths Of Bosomed Hills Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
In The Warm Depths Of Bosomed Hills
In the warm depths of bosomed hills
I travel late in dusk
The air was still
And neither rough nor chill
For it was Spring
Yes! I had from the dark Winter emerged
And was alive! Alive still!
Despite a waning heart and sick and
Pain:
And Hope to sing arose in me
When the dark-loving nightingale began
And wild hither and thither hedgehogs restless ran.
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8/30/2026 3:50:56 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
