XXI.

The fairies break their dances
   And leave the printed lawn,
And up from India glances
   The silver sail of dawn.

The candles burnt their sockets,
   The blinds let through the day,
The young man feels his pockets
   And wonders what’s to pay.

A.E. Housman, Last Poems
previousnext

Public domain: first published in 1922.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.