Soliloguy

Who sat beneath this tree
As I now sit below
Dwelling on a memory.
Of springtime long ago.
Could they too once have heard
The cuckoo far away,
Listened to the Blackbird
On a springtime day.
What tales this tree could tell
Of happiness or grief,
With just the blackbirds song
And whispering of leaf.

by William White

Other poems of WILLIAM WHITE (2)

Comments (1)

Nice stuff... and I really liked the title!