From Collected Poems, by Stevie Smith
WHEN THE SPARROW FLIES
When the sparrow flies to the delicate branch
He seems to be a heavy one alighting there,
It is March, and the fine twigs dance
As the boisterous sparrow plungles masterfully.
Fly again tto my heart oh my beloved,
My heart flies too high when you are absent.
No comments:
Post a Comment