A poem on Thursday : Blue Wings

Blue Wings, bu George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

Warm whisp'ring through the slender olive leaves
Came to me a gentle sound, 
Whis'pring of a secret found
In the clear sunshine 'mid the goldern sheaves:

Said it was sleeping for me in the moon, 
Called it gladness, called it joy, 
Drew me on 'Come hither, boy.'
To where the blue wings rested on the corn.

I thought the gentle sound had whispered true

Thought the little heaven mine, 

Leaned to clutch the thing divine, 
And saw the blue wings melt within the blue!


ALFIE said...

this is so very lovely!

Diana Mieczan said...

Beautiful...I love those posts:)
muah darling and happy Thursday:)

Anonymous said...

Love your selections of poetry. Perhaps it is time to add to your creative pursuits by beginning to pen your own words of inspiration. SB