by Stevie Smith (1902-1971) Away, melancholy, Away, let it go. Are not the trees green, The earth as green? Does not the wind blow, Fire leap and the rivers flow? Away, melancholy. The ant is busy He carrieth his meat, All things hurry To be eaten or eat. Away, melancholy. Man, too, hurries, Eats, couples,Continue reading “Away, Melancholy”
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Robin's Nest 