Continual Conversation With A Silent Man
The old brown hen and the old blue sky,
Between the two we live and die—The broken cartwheel on the hill
As if, in the presence of the sea,
We dried our nets and mended
The old brown hen and the old blue sky,
Between the two we live and die—The broken cartwheel on the hill
As if, in the presence of the sea,
We dried our nets and mended
The tumult in the heart keeps asking questions
And then it stops and undertakes to answer in the same tone of voice
No one could tell the difference
Uninnocent, these conversations start, and then engage the senses, only half-meanin...
—That spot of blood on the drawing room wall,
No larger than a thumbnail when I looked a moment ago,
Is spreading,
Cousin Agatha, and growing brighter
Let us not talk philosophy, drop it,
Jeanne
So many words, so much paper, who can stand it
I told you the truth about my distancing myself