A Walk, Late Winter's
As long its walk, moist o'erhangs
This way, that, joint-wended;
As long, you, chill-wetted through
Have, of it, re-stated:
"I doubt this late winter day
Of dullness, redeemably
In a brightness of showing
Any, looked on can be!"
Shake this palely tumbling mass
A pear tree's, musky-full
And tell me, if you are not
Splashed of the beautiful?
Copyright © James Watkin | Year Posted 2021
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