The Star-Apple Kingdom (Derek Walcott Poems)
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
The last leaves fell like notes from a piano and left their ovals echoing in the ear; with gawky music ...
Better a jungle in the head than rootless concrete. Better to stand bewildered by the fireflies' crooked street; winter lamps ...
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