Wash of cold river
in a glacial land,
Ionian water,
chill, snow-ribbed sand,
drift of rare flowers,
clear, with delicate shell-
like leaf enclosing
frozen lily-leaf,
camellia texture,
colder than a rose;
wind-flower
that keeps the breath
of the north-wind —
these and none other;
intimate thoughts and kind
reach out to share
the treasure of my mind,
intimate hands and dear
drawn garden-ward and sea-ward
all the sheer rapture
that I would take
to mould a clear
and frigid statue;
rare, of pure texture,
beautiful space and line,
marble to grace
your inaccessible shrine.
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Comments
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another superb piece of Poetry ..
Thank you again, OP Volunteers. Truly, the one way we can all help to become better writers is to read the Treasure Trove of Words left to us by Poets like H.D. and those you support at OP.
It would be great if Old Poetry featured the Poem of the Day once in a while.
Not a wasted word here.
Lisa
applause, applause.
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