Through A Porthole

If you could lie upon this berth, this berth
whereon I lie,
If you could see a tiny peak uplift its
tingled tusk,
If you could see the purple hills against
the changing sky,
And see a shadowed pinnacle lying in the dusk;
If you could see the sabre-moon shining
on the deep;
You'd say the world was not unkind, but just
a sleeping child,
You'd say the world has gone to sleep.
And while it slept
it smiled.

by Leon Gellert

Other poems of LEON GELLERT (81)

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