Kettle-Song Poem by Ivor Gurney

Kettle-Song



The worry and low murmur
Of the black kettle are set
Against my unquiet achings
And vanish, so strong is the fret.
Such tangles and evil-skeined fibres
Of living so matted are grown
That water-song is hardly noticed
For all its past comfortings known.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: evil
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