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epic poetry

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
uma milha atrás
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
ruídos que strive rasgar
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
qual eu desejo observar
deixe-nos plantar
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
a noite era preta e drear
quem é o corredor nos céus
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
eu estive
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
quando eu olhei em seus olhos

 



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