To Live
We both have our hands to give
Take mine I shall lead you afar
I have lived several times my face hasw changed
With every threshold I have crossed and every hand clasped Familial springtime was reborn
Keeping for itself and for me its perishable snow
Death and the betrothed
The future with five fingers clenched and letting go
My age always gave me
New reasons for living through others
For having the blood of man other's heart in mine
Oh the lucid fellow I was and that I am
Before the pallor of frail blind girls
Lovelier than the delicate worn moon so fair
By the reflection of life's ways
A trail of moss anf trees
Of mist and morning dew
Of the young body which does not rise alone
To its place on earth
Wind cold and rain cradle it
Summer makes a man of it
Presesence is my virtue in each visible hand
Only death is solitude
From delight to fury from fury to clarity
I make myself whole through all beings
Through all weather on the earth and in the clouds
Through the passing seasons I am young
And strong for having lived
I am young my blood rises over my ruins
We have our hands to entwine Nothing can ever seduce better
Tahn our bonding to each other a forest
Returning earth to sky and the sky to night
To the night which prepares an unending day.
poem by Paul Eluard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Four Seasons
First snowfall this morning.
Ground covered in white.
Flowers have died.
Birds are in flight.
End cycle of life
Death turns into birth
Old becomes new
Renewing our earth
Seasons, like Jesus
Restoring the dead
The blood of the Lamb
And breaking of bread
My seasons, have changed.
I've lost my old ways
Pure white I now sit
From the One whom I praise
I Fall to my knees.
In winter I died.
In spring, I'm reborn.
Summer; alive.
He waits til our fall,
And then helps us rise.
His death for us all,
We see through His eyes.
He is my four seasons.
His will is my goal.
After my death,
He breathes life in my soul
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Change
She leaned out into the soft June weather,
With her long loose tresses the night breeze played;
Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
'My life, ' she said, 'is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
Bring me a change, O changeful moon!
'Who would drift on a lake forever?
Young hearts weary - it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river;
New moon, true moon, bring me a change! '
The rose that rivalled her maiden blushes
Dropped from her breast, at a strangers feet;
Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes
To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.
To and fro, while the moon is waning,
They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning -
Oh, what is so sweet as a sweet young love?
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken -
Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing -
And what is so pale as a pale old moon?
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing -
Woe that the change should come so soon.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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God Called Them Home
Ten thousand years I’d trod this dusty earth
Wore sundry faces, did deeds good and bad
Culled skills along the way to prove my worth
Been a Bard, Shaman, Sage and Nomad
From afar I heard a velvet voice
Call my aching body and broken heart
His magnetic pull gave me no choice
The Angel then led me to my counterpart
Thru gray mist a delicate hand did reach
She gently placed her tiny hand in mine
My pounding heart did humbly beseech
That once more our eager souls entwine
Lovers kissed, bid Earth good-bye
We at last ascended Sapphire sky
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My City Of Ruins
Theres a blood red circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church doors blown open
I can hear the organs song
But the congregations gone
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Now the sweet veils of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The hustlers and thieves
While my brothers down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Now theres tears on the pillow
Darling where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Now tell me how do I begin again?
My citys in ruins
My citys in ruins
Now with these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
I pray lord
With these hands
For the strength lord
With these hands
For the faith lord
With these hands
Come on rise up!
Come on rise up!
Rise up
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Birthday
Standing before you... again, on the same place
facing the same face... a lot has changed, even the sweet smell of summer air
and yet your face is still as fair.
struck by the winter wind, weathered by the summer rain it is mine that has aged
and for all the pain i had to withstand
am i to be repaid by a touch of a cold hand
Beauty, do i deserve a look so stiff, as if struck by the morning frost?
but let this day not go to waste
let your hands pick the sad notes of the music that shall soon play
if tears are the cost, i shall gladly pay, i shall even call the rain on a summer's day
Look..., earth offered me cursed fruits
Damn them for setting my inner beings in agonizing disputes
say, AM I TO OFFER YOU GIFTS OR ARE YOU?
Argh, let this matter no longer pursue
I see that it cause you a lot pain
Stay, do not wander away
Remember though: when your beauty shifts from green to illuminant red
Look no further, i shall be found on thy flowers' bed
Maybe that tune you've been working on for so long shall be played
Would you then lean down and whisper kindly 'happy birthday' and gently kiss me on my forehead
And maybe... i shall whisper the same...
Sonnet III: Mindful of you the sodden earth
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,
And dusty roads, and thistles, and the slow
Rising of the round moon, all throats that sing
The summer through, and each departing wing,
And all the nests that the bared branches show,
And all winds that in any weather blow,
And all the storms that the four seasons bring.
You go no more on your exultant feet
Up paths that only mist and morning knew,
Or watch the wind, or listen to the beat
Of a bird's wings too high in air to view,--
But you were something more than young and sweet
And fair,--and the long year remembers you.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Young Blood
i saw her standing on the corner,
(ooh ooh ooh)
a yellow ribbon in her hair,
(ooh ooh ooh)
i couldn't keep myself from callin' ,
looky there,
looky there,
looky there,
oh looky there!
young blood,
young blood,
young blood,
i can't get you outta my mind.
i took one look and i was flattered
(ooh ooh ooh)
i tried to walk along the lane
(ooh ooh ooh)
i couldn't keep myself from shouting,
whats your name?
whats your name?
whats your name?
oh whats your name?
young blood,
young blood,
young blood,
i can't get you outta my mind.
what crazy step
she looked so tept
i had to follow her all the way home
then things went bad
i met her dad
he said
you'd better leave my daughter alone
i couldn't sleep that night for crying
(ooh ooh ooh)
i saw the rising of the sun
(ooh ooh ooh)
and all along my heart was sighing
she's the one
she's the one
she's the one
oh she's the one
young blood
young blood
young blood
i can't get you outta my mind
young blood
young blood
young blood
i can't get you outta my mind
young blood
young blood
young blood
i can't get you outta my mind
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightingale Dropping
born to be a star, champion to any race, cloth to
fine victory, as the bastion of strength rise into the
sparkling sky, where the highest goal is to fly
the rain pours my hand and body giggling the narrow
of the eye i see, where the trembling skin touches
my whether skin, waiting the cooled heart bits to
end
the mastery of the moon cover the shadow of the
night clouds, moving to hide in the confetti’s of wind
that crumple the chime of a wishing bell as it echo in
a distance heart apart
come journey with me, travel and ride in my winged
song of praise, for know not the blind can see; but
an eye that tell of the beauty of a nightingale melody,
for the harmony of the harp witness the soul
immortality
turn me not and lead me to go, the air that breathe is
no where to sink, as the sky fall into the ground
and kiss the blissfulness of each passing hour has
something to play; nay! let the rise come in a
sweeping death of a returning scent of home
let the young flesh move for a while, like a seagull
of wings nestle in the surfing wave to stay, wonder
as it kites in the nightingale night it flies.......
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Country Of Marriage
I.
I dream of you walking at night along the streams
of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs
of birds opening around you as you walk.
You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.
II.
This comes after silence. Was it something I said
that bound me to you, some mere promise
or, worse, the fear of loneliness and death?
A man lost in the woods in the dark, I stood
still and said nothing. And then there rose in me,
like the earth's empowering brew rising
in root and branch, the words of a dream of you
I did not know I had dreamed. I was a wanderer
who feels the solace of his native land
under his feet again and moving in his blood.
I went on, blind and faithful. Where I stepped
my track was there to steady me. It was no abyss
that lay before me, but only the level ground.
III.
Sometimes our life reminds me
of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark, its ways
to be made anew day after day, the dark
richer than the light and more blessed,
provided we stay brave
enough to keep on going in.
IV.
How many times have I come to you out of my head
with joy, if ever a man was,
for to approach you I have given up the light
and all directions. I come to you
lost, wholly trusting as a man who goes
into the forest unarmed. It is as though I descend
slowly earthward out of the air. I rest in peace
in you, when I arrive at last.
V.
Our bond is no little economy based on the exchange
of my love and work for yours, so much for so much
of an expendable fund. We don't know what its limits are--
that puts us in the dark. We are more together
than we know, how else could we keep on discovering
we are more together than we thought?
You are the known way leading always to the unknown,
and you are the known place to which the unknown is always
leading me back. More blessed in you than I know,
I possess nothing worthy to give you, nothing
not belittled by my saying that I possess it.
Even an hour of love is a moral predicament, a blessing
a man may be hard up to be worthy of. He can only
accept it, as a plant accepts from all the bounty of the light
enough to live, and then accepts the dark,
passing unencumbered back to the earth, as I
have fallen tine and again from the great strength
of my desire, helpless, into your arms.
VI.
What I am learning to give you is my death
to set you free of me, and me from myself
into the dark and the new light. Like the water
of a deep stream, love is always too much. We
did not make it. Though we drink till we burst
we cannot have it all, or want it all.
In its abundance it survives our thirst.
In the evening we come down to the shore
to drink our fill, and sleep, while it
flows through the regions of the dark.
It does not hold us, except we keep returning
to its rich waters thirsty. We enter,
willing to die, into the commonwealth of its joy.
VII.
I give you what is unbounded, passing from dark to dark,
containing darkness: a night of rain, an early morning.
I give you the life I have let live for the love of you:
a clump of orange-blooming weeds beside the road,
the young orchard waiting in the snow, our own life
that we have planted in the ground, as I
have planted mine in you. I give you my love for all
beautiful and honest women that you gather to yourself
again and again, and satisfy--and this poem,
no more mine than any man's who has loved a woman.
poem by Wendell Berry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain Or Shine
Every time you go
This much I know
That it don't mean nothing
Cause I've closed the back door
And every night apart you were in my heart
So don't you worry
Cause I'm ready for this love to restart
There is a reason
We came together
Rain or Shine I'll love you all my life
We'll weather the seasons
We'll laugh and cry
Rain or shine I'm yours, you're mine
I'll love you all my life
When I feel afraid
In my own parade
That marches through me
And I don't recognize
A single face
You drew a line in the sand
Then you took my hand
And we crossed over
Now I finally understand that
There is a reason
We came together
Rain or Shine I'll love you all my life
We'll weather the seasons
We'll laugh and cry
Rain or shine I'm yours, you're mine
I'll love you all my life
Yeah...
Now I finally understand that...
There is a reason
We came together
Rain or Shine I'll love you all my life
We'll weather the seasons
We'll laugh and cry
Rain or shine I'm yours, you're mine I'll love... yeah
There is a reason
We came together
Rain or Shine I'll love you all my life
We'll weather the seasons
We'll laugh and cry
Rain or shine I'm yours, you're mine
I'll love you all my life
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Girls
Its not fair what
They put me through
Please tell me what
Am I supposed to do
Why do I get myself
In this situation
There must be some
Logical answers why
I rob the cradle
Can this be love
Or just infactuation
Little girl
Come out and play
I got some candy
For my baby
Its your sweet
Sixteenth birthday
Celebration
Thank heaven for
Little girls
Who grow up in a
Most peculiar way
You might think shes
Too young for me
(little girls)
You know I always say
Youre as young
As you feel (as you feel)
Yeah, I might be crazy
cause I like them so young
(little girls)
But with little girls
The best is yet to come
Come (yet to come)
Some they say
Im too old for her
Old enough
To be her father
Incestual blood is
Thicker than water
Do whats right
Not morally wrong
Flesh and blood
Can only be so strong
And its my god
Not yours
Ill have to answer
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 03: Mindful Of You The Sodden Earth In Spring
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,
And dusty roads, and thistles, and the slow
Rising of the round moon, all throats that sing
The summer through, and each departing wing,
And all the nests that the bared branches show,
And all winds that in any weather blow,
And all the storms that the four seasons bring.
You go no more on your exultant feet
Up paths that only mist and morning knew,
Or watch the wind, or listen to the beat
Of a bird's wings too high in air to view,—
But you were something more than young and sweet
And fair,—and the long year remembers you.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What If I Fell In Love?
what if i fell in love with a leaf,
became the tree that nurtured?
became the sun, the rain, and the wind,
and the turning of the seasons...
what if i fell in love with the lock
on the knob of the door to eternity?
what if you were the only key?
whose hands would make the turn?
what if i fell in love with shadows,
etched by the blade of hungry light?
whose face, whose form, whose scent...
whose imprint on my soul?
what if i fell in love facing death,
and you were my last breath?
would you breathe into me rivers...
rivers and trees, and stone laid paths.
what if i fell in love despite of...
despite of wars, poverty, and anguish?
would you restore hope to the hopeless?
and build a fire to warm the night...
what if i fell in love again,
and we met like strangers for the first time?
would your hand fit into mine?
could we find passion stolen by loss?
what if i fell in love because i have to,
because i want to, because i need to?
because life demands to be lived,
and time is but a moment!
what if i fell in love with a leaf...
what sound would it make when it fell?
would the world be strong enough to go on?
would the sun ever rise again?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Menstruation At Forty
I was thinking of a son.
The womb is not a clock
nor a bell tolling,
but in the eleventh month of its life
I feel the November
of the body as well as of the calendar.
In two days it will be my birthday
and as always the earth is done with its harvest.
This time I hunt for death,
the night I lean toward,
the night I want.
Well then—
speak of it!
It was in the womb all along.
I was thinking of a son ...
You! The never acquired,
the never seeded or unfastened,
you of the genitals I feared,
the stalk and the puppy’s breath.
Will I give you my eyes or his?
Will you be the David or the Susan?
(Those two names I picked and listened for.)
Can you be the man your fathers are—
the leg muscles from Michelangelo,
hands from Yugoslavia
somewhere the peasant, Slavic and determined,
somewhere the survivor bulging with life—
and could it still be possible,
all this with Susan’s eyes?
All this without you—
two days gone in blood.
I myself will die without baptism,
a third daughter they didn’t bother.
My death will come on my name day.
What’s wrong with the name day?
It’s only an angel of the sun.
Woman,
weaving a web over your own,
a thin and tangled poison.
Scorpio,
bad spider—
die!
My death from the wrists,
two name tags,
blood worn like a corsage
to bloom
one on the left and one on the right—
It’s a warm room,
the place of the blood.
Leave the door open on its hinges!
Two days for your death
and two days until mine.
Love! That red disease—
year after year, David, you would make me wild!
David! Susan! David! David!
full and disheveled, hissing into the night,
never growing old,
waiting always for you on the porch ...
year after year,
my carrot, my cabbage,
I would have possessed you before all women,
calling your name,
calling you mine.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Introspection
If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Fear, fear,
Fear of the jaws of the rock,
Fear of the teeth and splinters of iron that tear
Flesh from the bone, and the moist
Blood, running unfelt
From the wound, and the hand
Suddenly moist and red.
If you go deep
Into the heart
What do you find?
Grief, grief,
Grief for the life unlived,
For the loves unloved,
For the child never to be born,
Th'unbidden anguish, when the fair moon
Rises over still summer seas, and the pain
Of sunlight scattered in vain on spring grass.
If you go deeper
Into the heart
What do you find there?
Death, death,
Death tht lets all go by,
Lets the blood flow from the wound,
Lets the night pass,
Endures the day with indifference, knowing that all must end.
Sorrow is not forever, ad sense
Endures no extremities,
Death is the last Secret implicit within you, the hidden, the deepest
Knowledge of all you will ever unfold
In this body of earth.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning, Good Friday
Therefore let me know trust in the feelings of my heart. My hope is in what the hand of man has never touched. Do not let me trust what I can grasp between my fingers.
Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude.
Young grass
high and thick
drenched
filled to brim,
by morning sun released
a fury of green, trees
believing that golden day
will stay.
Persist, oh life,
despite the cold of winter,
and beat, my heart!
With tender heat
yet awhile
I'll breathe!
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Man
Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
People say with age there comes experience
But as soon as you are born you start to die
Older men are chosen to speak wisely
But call the child to the sacrificial rite
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
The fire bombs in distant lands are burning
Jarring every synapse in your soul
Life and death are a meaningless profession
Tomorrow brings a horror yet untold
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
Young man!
Young man!
Come home my son
We'll give you a rest
Welcome my son
We'll give you the best
Time's stowaway
The young man
Short are the days
Of the young man
Young man!
Young man!
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Gave You My Heart
If I gave you my heart
Where would you be
Would it mean nothing
If not for me
If I gave you my eyes
What would they see
Would they see nothing
If not for me
But I gave you my hand and my sign and my soul on the earth
And I gave up on truth when I heard about the words
I lived out of love when I gave it away
And I sold off my soul when theres no one to pay
If I gave you my hand
What would it write
Would it say nothing
Or say its alright
If I gave you my arms
Would they hold you tight
First blood (? ) in morning
Or bid you goodnight
And I gave you my strength and my worth and I gave you my gift
And I moved on the first and I left us to drift
And I reap from the soil and I build hopes from wood
Its a new better life and we have to ensure
And I gave you my dream of the world and you stole the key
You sang to the wind in the whole ? ? ? sea
And I feel my weight and I guard my soul
And I found my beliefs when I found my control
I gave you my hand and my soul on the earth
And I gave up on the truth when I heard about the words
So I lived out of love when I gave it away
And I sold off my soul when theres no one to pay
Another version
---------------------------------------------------------
If I gave you my heart where would you be,
Would it mean nothing if not for me?
If I gave you my eyes what would they see,
Would they see nothing if not for me?
But I gave you my hand and my sign,
And my soul on the earth,
And I gave up on truth,
When I heard about the worst
So I lived out of love
When I gave it away
And I sold off my soul
When there was no-one to pay
If I gave you my hand what would it write
Would it say nothing or say its alright
If I gave you my arms would they hold you tight
First light of morning or bid you goodnight
And I gave you my strength and my worth
And I gave you my gift
And I moved on the first
And I left us to drift
And Ill reap from the soil
And Ill build home from wood
Its a new better life
And we have 2 and should
And I gave you my dream of the world
And we stood on the quay
And we sang to the wind
And the whole darkening sea
And I feel my weight
And I guard my soul
And I found my beliefs
When I found my control
I gave you my hand
And my soul on the earth
And I gave up on truth
When I heard about the worst
So I lived out of love
When I gave it away
And I sold off my soul
When there was no-one to pay
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show me
Show me the place
where we lived once
when the earth was still young,
before man’s hand
like a sickle went over it
and chopped until woods
disappeared totally
and deserts appeared in places.
Show me the fields, marches and hillocks
where animals at a time was carefree
before the rifle
sounded without end
and mines, factories, buildings
and rail tracts harassed the earth
and everything yielded
to steel and concrete.
Show me the blue sky
that at a time was pure
and now is full of smoke and ash
and water that fell sparkling
as rain from the air
and brought life
and could wash everything clean
and now eat
while it falls filled with acid.
Show me the streams and rivers
where at a time there were healthy fish
that could bring water to fields
and where children for the fun
could jump in
and now are filled with sewerage,
poisons, minerals
and garbage that drifts everywhere.
Show me seasons
that comes on their time
and now every day
is winter, summer and spring
while life
pass much too quickly
and the hand of man
for ever are mowing out the earth
and a day might come,
when the earth
becomes man’s own
place of damnation.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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