The Gate (Evening's Wooing Hour) Poem by james watkin
The Gate (Evening's Wooing Hour)
Down through the dim centuries
Darksome, shade-flecked, fronting
Dull avenues, lanes
The gate. Meek through all weathers
Dignified remains.
Frailly hearted, as of hand
What as long, the other side
Has this, safeguarded.
A lady's honour. Un-plucked
By that bloomed, scented.
Tuesday, September 27, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: gate,tradition,lady
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/29/2024 3:10:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
