night (Remove filter)
no title
It's time for bed,
the walrus said;
and so it is as now.
It's time for bed,
and so my head
is ready for the bow.
But words still gait
upon the wilt
of never and the row.
And gone are they
that hope and pray
for ever and for thou.
It's time for bed
the moon has said;
yet ever in her tide,
the moon is dead
and night has fled,
and dawn is by her side.
So wilt the sky,
in blossom ...
Monday 6th February 2017 12:41 am
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on Look At Me
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Unquenchable Fire
1 hour ago
Clare on Masterpiece.
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on SIEGE OF LENINGRAD 1941-44
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on Masterpiece.
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on Lessons and blessings (the black-bird)
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on Shell
1 hour ago
Stephen Atkinson on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 25 of 230: UBUD
1 hour ago
Rasa Kabaila on Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh
4 hours ago
Rasa Kabaila on The Bridge
4 hours ago