Neath a canvas starry / Benjamin Rozonoyer
Neath a canvas starry Walks the wind prewintery, Through the bending barley, Past the barn that's splintery. By the pub-panes violently Sweeps its nose inquisitive; He is sitting silently – The sprites have visited. Morning ocean's breezy head Slips away it next to see; The sprites have visited, He expired in ecstasy.
Neath a canvas starry: Copyright 2021 by Benjamin Rozonoyer. All rights reserved.