The Woods Entry Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
The Woods Entry
So old is the wood, so old,
Old as Fear.
Wrinkled roots; great stems; hushed leaves;
No sound near.
Shadows retreat into shadow,
Deepening, crossed.
Burning light singles a low leaf, a bough,
Far within, lost.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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5/7/2024 6:20:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
