I’d love to read some Wordsworth,
And of Coleridge, pages not a few.
With subtle inference and tone,
Where spirits soar, in unseen azure sky.
While I sit here, with sore clipped wing,
Seeing only line by line, upon the page,
Never knowing, what’s between.
Project Type: Poetry
Forgotten Fairyland
We talk of fairies, nymphs et al., But are they really real at all? If so, we would, a path now take, A fantastic version, of us to make.
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