Archive for May, 2009
I Never Hear The Word “Escape” (144)
I never hear the word “Escape”
Without a quicker blood,
A sudden expectation –
A flying attitude!
I never hear of prisons broad
By soldiers battered down,
But I tug childish at my bars
Only to fail again!
“Faith” Is Fine Invention (202)
“Faith” is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!
All Overgrown By Cunning Moss, (146)
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.
This Bird – observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes –
Quietly did the same –
But differed in returning –
Since Yorkshire hills are green –
Yet not in all the nests I meet –
Can Nightingale be seen –
