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...

…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...