Soir, Le
Mute-lipped—
unquestioning grim-visaged Fate,
I cleave the shadows toward the Western Gate;
And yet—
my lagging heart still holds
Mute-arms outstretched
Unto earth's gleaming folds.
Who knows?
perhaps Hope's blossoms spray
In lush profusion
O'er the edge of day!
unquestioning grim-visaged Fate,
I cleave the shadows toward the Western Gate;
And yet—
my lagging heart still holds
Mute-arms outstretched
Unto earth's gleaming folds.
Who knows?
perhaps Hope's blossoms spray
In lush profusion
O'er the edge of day!
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.