A Cliff Dwelling; Robert Frost
There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago - ten thousand years.
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Permalink Reply by Maya D' Auspicio on -
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Permalink Reply by Kay Chong Tay on -
I am like people reading the channel writers: give full support even I don't understand anything!:)
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