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Paudeen
| Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite | | Of our old Paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind | | Among
the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light; | | Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind | | A curlew
answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought | | That on the lonely height where all are in God’s eye, | | There
cannot be, confusion of our sound forgot, | | A single soul that lacks a sweet crystalline cry. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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