Category: Poetry
The promiscuous wind wafts idly from the quays A smell of ships and curious woods and casks And a sweetness from the gorse on the flowerstand And brushes with his cool careless cheek the cheeks Of those on the street; mine, an old gnarled man's, The powdered cheeks of the girl...
All I can write is the orange tinct with crimson of the beaks of the goose and of the wet webbed feet of the geese that crackle the skimming of ice and curve their white plump n...
4. Part 4They stroll back with tired steps lips still soft with the softness of petals voices faint with the whisper of woods; and they wander through the darkling streets full of stench...
2. Part 2Bleating of sheep, the bark of a dog and, dun-yellow in the snow a long flock straggles. Crying of lambs, twitching noses of snowflecked ewes, the proud curved horns of a regal...
1. Part 1The promiscuous wind wafts idly from the quays A smell of ships and curious woods and casks And a sweetness from the gorse on the flowerstand And brushes with his cool careless...
5. Part 5The leaves are full grown now and the lindens are in flower. Horseshoes leave their mark on the sun-softened asphalt. Men unloading vegetable carts along the steaming market cur...