poetry
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A bell in the distance
the sound floats
down the valley
one by one
woodcutters and fisherman
stop work, start home
the mountains move off
into darkness
alone, I turn home
as great clouds beckon
from the h...
November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being ...
November 20 @ 5:54pm | 0 comments