Poems from PrincessofStorybrooke797
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THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a...
(poems go here) 'O WORDS are lightly spoken,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or...
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(poems go here) WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy...
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When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But...