Marsden Inn Poem by Paul Reed
Marsden Inn
As the top of the hill is breasted I see
Icing sugar crests set on the surface of the swell
The Marsden Inn standing proudly in the gales
Sundays clothes drying for a spell
Until the next crazed wind-blown shower.
Descending the slope and I meet the Leas
With larks defying the stormy skies
Hovering over the rich green sward
And fleeing from my searching eyes
Shrilling the promise of the coming Spring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 11:39:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
