That Wrath (poem)

Posted by ractrose on 25 Jun 2018 in Art, Poems

    That Wrath   He could not be accused of smiling still Did (as in old speech) the sun hold prophecy She held these signs In her cloudless cabochon On frosty ground no evil thing takes root But here seed-heads of autumn grass Boil, and the salt-estuary boils Any bitterns with their bills up […]