To the Etruscan Poets

 Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young
Took with your mother's milk the mother tongue,

In which pure matrix, joining world and mind,
You strove to leave some line of verse behind

Like still fresh tracks across a field of snow,
Not reckoning that all could melt and go.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...