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Lumbermen
in the raw timber
I see nothing of the hill
but ruins
what a dreadful thing it is
to look down the precipice
into a grave
board on board
men full of pillage making money
of some honest joy
Poemas sobre el tema: timber
Poemas sobre el tema «timber» en Poets.by.
Woodlot
the sun behind the timber
where I have hopes
of profit
Consumer economy
we eat timber because
the night proposed it
and the fish ate fish
much to the satisfaction of Christ
we eat the world
being very full now of God
Testament
in wool
the down
in timber
time
in a will
a testament
Timber Wings
There was a wild pigeon came often to Hinkley's
timber.
Gray wings that wrote their loops and triangles on
the walnuts and the hazel.
There was a wild pigeon.
There was a summer came year by year to Hinkley's
timber.
Rainy months and sunny and pigeons calling and one
pigeon best of all who came.
There was a summer.
It is so long ago I saw this wild pigeon and listened.
It is so long ago I heard the summer song of the
pigeon who told me why night comes, why death
and stars come, why the whippoorwill remembers
three notes only and always.
It is so long ago; it is like now and today; the gray