Then Were The Beeches Bright Poem by Vilhelm Ekelund
Then Were The Beeches Bright
Then were the beeches bright, then was the stream
strewn with white buttercup islands, swimming;
bright its crown, the bird cherry swung where as a boy I wandered—
Silently it rains. The sky hangs low on
thin crowns. A whistling—the train sets off
again. Into slowly darkening evening, I travel friendless.
Monday, September 27, 2010
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3/11/2026 11:49:35 PM # 1.0.0
