There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
English discussion
Discussion List
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1.5K views 445 comments 2 points Most recent by mohit_singh Culture, Customs, Traditions and Celebrations
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367 views 69 comments 2 points Most recent by mheredge Culture, Customs, Traditions and Celebrations
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