If it
Were lighter touch
Than petal of flower resting
On grass, oh still too heavy it were,
Too heavy!
THE WARNING
Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk ... as strange, as still ...
A white moth flew. Why am I grown
If it
Were lighter touch
Than petal of flower resting
On grass, oh still too heavy it were,
Too heavy!
Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk ... as strange, as still ...
A white moth flew. Why am I grown