The Silver Birch– a caudate sonnet My gladness of the silver birch I wish To share, that slender goddess of a treeHer shower of silken hair moves in a swish That stirs in me a mystic reverieAs turns this verdant, grassy leaf-fringed glade Into her sacred grove, and I, her priestMid-frisson in the dancing, dappled… Read more
What poet now would ever dareTo sing an ode to morning airThe rosy mist that hovers thereO’er sea-girt folds? What mind could ever fully graspThe magnitude of such a task:To frame in verses built to lastVapours of gold? Perhaps some master’s careful brushCould set in oil the heart’s full rush Paint here and there a… Read more
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