The trees were all still Poem by Herman Gorter
The trees were all still
The trees were all still,
the sky was grey
the hills without will
lay in strange array.
The men were busy at toil
all about the place
as if digging treasure from soil,
though with measured pace.
Across the world's face
things were probably alike,
the world and the human race
are scarcely alive.
I walked and watched the scene
scared and content,
below, ever loyal and keen,
my footsteps went.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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6/16/2024 3:04:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
