Here The Chill Is Dance Itself.
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
0
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Auberges of snow
And frozen chill
From the apex of the trees
Hang
In Hastings Gardens
Lighted by moon rays
starlight
To slightly swinging lamps.
A Saint Vitus dance without any ill.
But joy and hopping wide.
Hurry
For nigh the end of May
It be
Now
Do not tarry.
Chill shall be a past soon
Spring
And
Summer
Inter-regnia temporary.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş