Poem Hunter
The Things We Say.
(1772-1834 / Devon / England)

The Things We Say.

Poem By Troy Nichols

Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!
Flash, like a Love-thought, thro' me, Death
And take a Life that wearies me.

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Comments (2)

is he contemplating death?
Sam Amazing showcase of poetry, keep it up