From this poem from Mr Nash dated 7th October 1959, it seems that Marianne is still not visiting his bookshop. I wonder how he is getting the poems to her...
This is the summer's end
With golden days like gossamer
Now fled before rude winds which bend
All things, save memory, upon themselves.
When shall I see you stand
Again with your proud lissom grace
Mirrored against the sun's demand
Yet like a pearl that adds to beauty's breast?
This is the summer's end
When austere winds do rudely touch
On truth and dreams, yet leave for friend
Sweet memories, and hope for distant spring.
7th October, 1959
No comments:
Post a Comment