Dry stony banks are wreathed with Bindweed Flowers

Dry stony banks are wreathed with Bindweed Flowers
The dry banks are wreathed in bindweed
& the hills are smoared wi goss seed
Where the lichen shades its fire
Wi the bracken & the moss
There every summer morning my bonny Phebe goes
& sits upon the thymey how & tends her twa three gows.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.