|
Robin's Space |
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
A Robin Ghost-grey the fall of night Ice-bound the lane, Lone in the dying light Flits he again; Lurking where the shadows steal, Perched in his coat of blood, Man’s homestead at his heel, Death-still the wood.
Odd restless child; it’s dark; All winds are flown But this one wizard’s – hark! Stone clapped on stone! Changeling and solitary, Secret and sharp and small, Flits he from tree to tree, Calling on all.
~Walter De la Mare
|
||
|
20-Oct-2003 |
Contact: webmaster@kniskern.com |
||