They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below
H
Henry David Thoreau
0
Altın Yaprak
They who prepare my evening meal below
Carelessly hit the kettle as they go
With tongs or shovel,
And ringing round and round,
Out of this hovel
It makes an eastern temple by the sound.
At first I thought a cow bell right at hand
Mid birches sounded o'er the open land,
Where I plucked flowers
Many years ago,
Spending midsummer hours
With such secure delight they hardly seemed to flow.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş