…you are not what you seem – you’re a Sylph – you leave and the air retains your image – you haunt me…
And I thought to myself how those fast little articles forget everything, everything, while we, old lovers, treasure every inch of their nymphancy
Overheard on a Saltmarsh”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...
Hazel blue anemone in a little SeaSide cave…drawing currents from the sea turquoise blue on sparkling waves. In ocean dreams, the poet waits by his grotto, passing days. Rhyming verse, his mind creates where his...
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv’st unseenWithin thy airy shellBy slow Meander’s margent green,And in the violet-imbroider’d valeWhere the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:Canst thou not tell me of a gentle...
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