• A Living Tree

    We see, like crooked fingers on a hand,
    The twigs and branches, bare against the sky,
    A melancholy sight to meet the eye,
    When winter's grip has paralysed the land,... more »

  • Our Planet

    Ancestral cradle of the human race,
    Sunrise and sunset sweeping gently round
    To what high cosmic melody, whose sound
    Can mark the measure of her dance in space,... more »