Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey
July 6, 2023Our Hands Have Met
July 6, 2023Pomona
I am the ancient apple-queen,
As once I was so am I now.
For evermore a hope unseen,
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.
Ah, where’s the river’s hidden Gold!
And where the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of Summer’s joy.