digging - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

What matter makes my spade for tears or mirth,
Letting down two clay pipes into the earth
The one I smoked, the other a
Of Blenheim,

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: