My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
- Stephen Crane Once a man clambering to the housetops Appealed to the heavens. With strong voice he called to the deaf spheres; A warrior's…
- Walter de la Mare To Edward Thomas The haze of noon wanned silver-grey, The soundless mansion of the sun; The air made visible in his ray, Like…
- Dylan Thomas Shall gods be said to thump the clouds When clouds are cursed by thunder, Be said to weep when weather howls? Shall rainbows be…