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Worlds

   Through the pale green forest of tall bracken-stalks,
   Whose interwoven fronds, a jade-green sky,
   Above me glimmer, infinitely high,
   Towards my giant hand a beetle walks
   In glistening emerald mail; and as I lie
   Watching his progress through huge grassy blades
   And over pebble boulders, my own world fades
   And shrinks to the vision of a beetle’s eye.
 
   Within that forest world of twilight green
   Ambushed with unknown perils, one endless day
   I travel down the beetle-trail between
   Huge glossy boles through green infinity...
   Till flashes a glimpse of blue sea through the bracken asway,
   And my world is again a tumult of windy sea.
Other works by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson...



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