The cat she walks on padded claws,
The wolf on the hills lays stealthy paws,
Feathered birds in the rain-sweet sky
At their ease in the air, flit low, flit high.
The oak's blind, tender roots pierce deep,
His green crest towers, dimmed in sleep,
Under the stars whose thrones are set
Where never prince hath journeyed yet.
Earth Folk
Walter De La Mare
(1)
Poem topics: cat, green, never, rain, sky, sleep, tender, sweet, deep, blind, high, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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