A wind comes from the north
Blowing little flocks of birds
Like spray across the town,
And a train, roaring forth,
Rushes stampeding down
With cries and flying curds
Of steam, out of the darkening north.
 
Whither I turn and set
Like a needle steadfastly,
Waiting ever to get
The news that she is free;
But ever fixed, as yet,
To the lode of her agony.

  • 0
  • 2
  •  
  •  
S'identifier Commentaires...

Préféré par...

Imrogue Michelle Martin
Email

Autres oeuvres par D. H. Lawrence...

Quelques poètes qui suivent D. H. Lawrence...

saaleha i bamjee James L. Morris Renee Frances Marta My New Life ANGIE TATIANA SERNA MORALES