The wind flapp’d loose, the wind was still
Shaken out dead from tree and hill
I had walked on at the wind’s will
I sat now, for the wind was still.
Upon my knees my forehead was
My lips, drawn in, said not Alas!
My hair was over in the grass
My naked ears heard the day pass
My eyes, wide open, had the run
Of some ten weeds to fix upon
Among these few, out of the sun
The woodspurge flower’d, three cups in one. Continue reading
