1 min read
Слушать(AI)The Opal Dream Cave
In an opal dream cave I found a fairy:
Her wings were frailer than flower petals,
Frailer far than snowflakes.
She was not frightened, but poised on my finger,
Then delicately walked into my hand.
I shut the two palms of my hands
And held her prisoner.
I carried her out of the opal cave,
Then opened my hands.
First she became thistledown,
Then a mote in a sunbeam,
Then—nothing at all.
Empty now is my opal dream cave.
Katherine Mansfield
Kathleen Mansfield Murry (née Beauchamp; 14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923) was a prominent modernist writer who was born and brought up in New Z
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Winter Song
Rain and wind, and wind and rain Will the Summer come again Rain on houses, on the street, Wetting all the people's feet,
Out in the Garden
Out in the garden, Out in the windy, swinging dark, Under the trees and over the flower-beds, Over the grass and under the hedge border,
Grown- Up Talk
Half-Past-Six and I were In a very grown-up way; We had got so tired with That we did not want to play
Sea
The Sea called—I lay on the rocks and said:I am come She mocked and showed her teeth, Stretching out her long green arms Go away