Overheard On A Saltmarsh

Image
  Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them? Give them me. No. Give them me. Give them me. No. Then I will howl all night in the reeds, Lie in the mud and howl for them. Goblin, why do you love them so? They are better than stars or water, Better than voices of winds that sing, Better than any man's fair daughter, Your green glass beads on a silver ring. Hush, I stole them out of the moon. Give me your beads, I want them. No. I will howl in the deep lagoon For your green glass beads, I love them so. Give them me. Give them. No. - Harold Monro (1879 - 1932)

The Judge


 “As with the force of winds and waters pent 

When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars

With horrible convulsion to and fro 

He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew 

The whole roof after them with burst of thunder 


Upon the heads of all who sat beneath”


(Painting by Norman Rockwell)



Popular posts from this blog

The Smooth-flowing Life

A Reflection in Plato’s “Republic” Book 2