COME, thrust your hands in the warm earth
And feel her strength through all your veins;
Breathe her full odors, taste her mouth,
Which laughs away imagined pains;
Touch her life's womb, yet know
This substance makes your grave also.

Shrink not; your flesh is no more sweet
Than flowers which daily blow and die;
Nor are your mein and dress so neat,
Nor half so pure your lucid eye;
And, yet, by flowers and earth I swear
You're neat and pure and sweet and fair.

Richard Aldington


Rodolfo Serrano said…
Querida amiga: Creo que te lo puede enviar la editorial. mira mis enlaces y allí encontrarás
Kim said…
Belinda! Again, this is a wonderful piece! I love the depth and the vessel is very much of woman!

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