Friday, June 17, 2011

on the move

Silver as palaces iced in the grass,
browan as the rown's young fruit,
turnpike silver-like oats at the glass,
brown as the silver swan's foot

and the mouths of the June-lily brown,
in spunlight diffusing the sky,
when pattering rainsnorts silver as down
and the chestnrt house's eye;

the pony's sad brown eye as he grafts
brown miles of Walcheren-cress,
the silver dog slinking between the shafts:
the cream of wedlock in a lane's green dress.



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