My Native Tongue Temptation bids me spend my gold elsewhere, Yet every blackbird, feathering dawn from thorn, returns my soul its hidden coin. The wind translates no hill so faithfully as that old speech inhabits me. Thus what I seem to carry is but dust; this treasure carries me. #vss365
Профиль
Gréachán
Профиль VivelyMetaphysical poetry www.greachan.com
So is the soul that fears have governed most, Once it has learned what all its griefs are worth: It grows as plain and settled as a coast That wears the patient sculpture of the earth. #vss365