Sally Evans Poems
Gently The Woodsorrel And The Dove
Gently the woodsorrel and the dove
evoked wide glades of memory
to share my quest across the sea,
a world-floor I could float above,
a world-bush filled with scent so fine
birds lost their minds to music, leaves
opened to flat plates in the breeze
on which lay food, and coins, and wine.
And from my carpet of wood sorrel
I importuned the gods above
to tell me if these gifts were mine,
mine to give or mine to take,
mine to pluck for true love's sake,
safe in the glade where memory shone
where the dove's mate and the flowers had gone,
The Honey Seller,1800
Under the Castle gate
bringing my store to the kitchen
I am asked to wait.
Honey shines in crocks in my basket.
The gardener wants to know, he says,
if this is a bee-skep hole.
Can we keep bees in it?
He leads me round the old bowls green,