Taking what flowers give, I give them the shelter of my eyes. In blue fields of sight There is no snow, no night, Only the eye's own sun, Own weather. Eyes, suns warm ing roots of flowers. Eyes, guarding the branch For the flowers to come, Shelter the buds.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
QR Code to Gift
Read this article in
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today