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 ...
When sunset, a brass gong, vibrate through Couva, is then I see my soul, swiftly unsheathed, like a white cattle ...
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