Lingua   

In Memoriam

Harry Gill
Lingua: Inglese



Beneath the light-leaved sycamores
In blue dusk of spring,
Still I walk and think of one
Who went a-soldiering.

Hushed is Bilton evening air
After vespers sung,
Home from church in Sunday best
Saunter old and young.

And their footfalls echoing
Speak of hearts content,
But sorrow walks with me along
The way he came and went.

On the lilac-scented air
Falls the steeple chime.
’Tis silent. Swallows skim the eaves
Where strangers hear the time.


Pagina principale CCG

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