On A Ruined Farm Near The ‘His Master’s Voice Gramophone Factory’ (George Orwell Poems)
As I stand at the lichened gateWith warring worlds on either hand -To left the black and budless trees,The empty ...
As I stand at the lichened gateWith warring worlds on either hand -To left the black and budless trees,The empty ...
Gray were the rushesBeside the budless bushes, Green-patched the pond.The lark had left soaringThough yet the sun was pouring His gold here ...
In the springtime once I wandered 'mid fair flowers of golden hue; Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in those fields ...
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