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For every one Beneath the sun, Where Autumn walks with quiet eyes, There is a word, Just overheard
By prashant sapkota5 years ago in Poets
The world upheld their pillars for a while - Now, where imperial On and Memphis stood, The hot wind sifts across the solitude
The Soul, of late a lovely sleeping child, Spreads sudden wings and stands in radiant guise, Eyed like the morn and bent upon the skies;
So you are lost to me! Ah, you, your ear of corn straight lying, What food is this for the darkly flying Fowls of the Afterwards!
What flocks of critics hover here today, As vultures wait on armies for their prey, All gaping for the carcasses of a play!
A neighbor of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing.
I wish for such a lot of things That never will come true, And yet I want them all so much I think they might, don't you?
You best discern'd of my interior eyes, And yet your graces outwardly diuine, Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies,
"Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Right many a nipperkin!
No mystic charm, no mortal art, Can bid our loved companions stay; The bands that clasp them to our heart Snap-in death's frost and falls apart;
'T is Spring, my love, 'tis Spring, And the birds begin to sing: If 'twas Winter, left alone with you, Your bonny form and face
Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down of his soft breast
