Sitting Under Ferns Poem by james watkin
Sitting Under Ferns
What in purity
Of each earthward ball, frond-handled
Spills again, wetly
Is caught of that side of her face
Modest which cowers.
To see what, pearls hair
In my adoration's new vision
Shows one faeried there!
Of my fawning hands, the outgrowth
In love-nurtured hours!
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: garden,romance
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5/18/2024 11:34:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
