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famous poem

a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
ame-me no último, ou se você não
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
eu sou fevered
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
este é o arsenal
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
há uma hora do descanso calmo
vivido pelo river-side
esse ano
nós não éramos muitos

 



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