Old Poetry Poetry • Poets • Essays • Forums •

Fugitives

To-night, far inland from the sea,
The winds, a frighted Legion, flee
With wailings of distress;
While Cataracts from many a steep
Plunge, headlong, foaming to the deep,
To drown their restlessness.


Anon, where each has passed away,
The shaken reed, the scattered spray.

Leave a guest comment (subject to review)

    : Comment:

    Name: (required)
    Email: (required, hidden from spam)