|
|
Dreams
By Lola Ridge
Men die...
Dreams only change their houses.
They cannot be lined up against a wall
And quietly buried under ground,
And no more heard of...
However deep the pit and heaped the clay -
Like seedlings of old time
Hooding a sacred rose under the ice cap of the world -
Dreams will to light.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 363 times.
|
|