Monday, 13 October 2014

And one by Stefan George


In beech-tree avenue’s rich tinselled light

In beech-tree avenue’s rich tinselled light
We stroll until we almost reach the gate
Through railings in the field outside we sight
The almond tree in second blossom’s spate.

We search for benches where no shadows lie
There where strange voices never drive away ·
In dreams our arms embrace as time goes by ·
We drink our fill of each mild-gleaming ray

Feel how the lingering of sunlight here
Drips down on us to tree-tops’ soughing sound
And only gaze and listen when we hear
The ripe fruits’ gentle knocking on the ground.

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