Like The Water by Wendell Berry Like the peeing of a darksome stream, love is always too much. We did not beat it. though we drink till we burst, we cannot have it all, or ask it all. In its abundance it survives our thirst. In the evening we come polish to the shore to drink our fill, and sleep, speckle it flows through the regions of the dark. It does not afford us, except we keep move to its rich waters thirsty. We enter, unstrained to die, into the commonwealth of its joy. |[pic|Email This Poem to a Friend | |] | | | | | Where at a time The Waters Of Your Face by Dylan Thomas Where at erstwhile the waters of your face Spun to my screws, your run dry ghost blows, The dead turns up its tenderness; Where at once the mermen through your ice Pushed up their hair, the dry wind steer s by means of salt and root and roe.
Where once your common knots sank their splice Into the tided cord, there goes The green unraveller, His scissors oiled, his glossa hung loose To cut the channels at their source And position the wet fruits low. Invisible, your clocking tides Break on the lovebeds of the rafts; The bullet of loves left dry; on that point round about your stones the dark glasses Of children go who, from their voids, Cry to the dolphined sea. Dry as a tomb, your colorful lids Shall not be latched while magic glides Sage on the earth and sky; There shall be corals in your beds There shall be serpents in your tides, Ti! ll all our sea-faiths die.If you want to thread a full essay, order it on our website:
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