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.
- Robert Frost Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a…
- Walter de la Mare Who said, "Peacock Pie"? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, "Crops are ripe"? Rust to the harrow: Who…
- Hilaire Belloc I, from a window where the Meuse is wide, Looked eastward out to the September night; The men that in the hopeless battle died…