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Periphery
A nature poem, basically, or at least on the surface. |
| What is it that has brought me To this crimson purple eve? To a silent sky that cloudless hangs, Where dark Housemartins weave and the wind blows just to shake my stance, And all that I believe. Slieves slope gently down to sea, Or tumble down to sink, Where waves splash lightly over crags, Which wash themselves and drink, While wet, their dips and filled-up pools, In sunlight flash and wink. Think what stands beyond this sea, Which guards Apollo's sleep, And shimmering, calls travellers, Like a shepherd would his sheep. And echoes for a lifetime, However long, however deep. Which giant slumbers at my feet, His back grown light and green, Having lain here once to marvel, At what we now both have seen. And watch the light dance lightly, Till it sleeps on the marine. Unseen it is, what called me here, To the edge of all I know, To where the birds are free to dance, And the moon is free to glow, And I am sure that I'll return, However far I go. |