Ezra Pound (1914)
The rustling of the silk is discontinued,
Dust drifts over the court-yard
There is no sound of foot-fall, and the leaves
Scurry into heaps and lie still,
And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them:
A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.
Friday, May 2, 2008
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from Writing Poems by Robert Wallace (3rd Edition)
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