June from clipped: the angel's wings,
High from bough the bluebird sings.
Night nor day will quench the eve;
Leaving all alone to greive.
So the deamon passes by
No one left to dully cry.
Pray that dawn will come again,
Cheered with flower and the wren.
Still as June and angel's wings...
High from bough the bluebird sings.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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A good poem.
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