Primrose
by Patrick Kavanagh
Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer
Of one small primrose flowering in my mind.
Better than wealth it is, I said, to find
One small page of Truth’s manuscript made clear.
I looked at Christ transfigured without fear–
The light was very beautiful and kind,
And where the Holy Ghost in flame had signed
I read it through the lenses of a tear.
And then my sight grew dim, I could not see
The primrose that had lighted me to Heaven,
And there was but the shadow of a tree
Ghostly among the stars. The years that pass
Like tired soldiers nevermore have given
Moments to see wonders in the grass.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Владимир Маяковский – Дожмем! В России буржуазия побеждена… (РОСТА №841)
- What Peace Is Like
- Over the Carnage. by Walt Whitman
- You by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- The Café Filtre by Paul Blackburn
- The Progress of Poesy by Thomas Gray
- Proud Music of The Storm by Walt Whitman
- The River Of Bees by W. S. Merwin
- Ольга Ермолаева – Всю эту печаль невозможно вместить целиком
- How Does Writing Improves Your Mental Health?
- Plague Of Dead Sharks
- Life by Sir Walter Raleigh
- Gesture Theory A Villanelle
- Жан Расин – Андромаха
- Омар Хайям – Когда ты для меня слепил из глины плоть
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
