Moonrise

Will you glimmer on the sea?

Will you fling your spear-head

On the shore?

What note shall we pitch?

We have a song,

On the bank we share our arrows –

The loosed string tells our note:

O flight,

Bring her swiftly to our song.

She is great,

We measure her by the pine-trees.


H. D. (1886-1961)

(Quelle: http://www.poets.org)



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