The South Wind
W
William Rose Benet
0
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I'm as full of wisdom as a tree of leaves,
But the South WInd flows, blows and grieves,
Quivers every leaf with bewildering desire
Till a pallor of blossom ripples forth like fire,
Till I'm as full of color as a spring cherry tree
With a miracle of moonlight spilled over me,
And on the branches gnarled and boughs they ought to prune
Memory s dancing fantastic to the moon!
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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