1 min read
Слушать(AI)Like Snow
She, then, like snow in a dark night,
Fell secretly.
And the world waked With dazzling of the drowsy eye,
So that some muttered 'Too much light',
And drew the curtains close.
Like snow, warmer than fingers feared,
And to soil friendly;
Holding the histories of the night In yet unmelted tracks.
Robert Graves
Robert von Ranke Graves (24 July 1895 – 7 December 1985) was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist. His father was Alfred
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Down Wanton Down!
Down, wanton, down Have you no shame That at the whisper of Love's name, Or Beauty's, presto up you raise Your angry head and stand at gaze
Counting The Beats
You, love, and I,(He whispers) you and I, And if no more than only you and What care you or I Counting the beats,
Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers, Which nobody else may grow In a big quarrelsome house like ours They try it sometimes—but no, I root them up because they’re my flowers, Which nobody else may grow Claire has a tea-rose, but she di...
Symptoms Of Love
Love is universal migraine, A bright stain on the Blotting out reason Symptoms of true