O now the drenched land wakes;
Birds from their sleep call
Fitfully, and are still.
Clouds like milky wounds
Float across the moon.
O love, none may
Turn away long
From this white grove
Where all nouns grieve.
Did you enjoy the the artible “O Now the Drenched Land Wakes” from Kenneth Patchen on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply