| Yeats |
| hail horizon, i come in cheer mating the winds that come by near when my winds hug thy bare skinn'd free as a storm when loves dear a tree! ur tree hands raise high from good leads of hard plow, u rose thru the weeds for u have raised infrom this land u r the seed that grew from sand! and who thirst not, but from high fruits ought to water and feed deep'nd roots wherefrom the ground, earth quinch from these before ladders to honey, and biting bees! me no footnotes on this one... lol |