The Columbine

A poem by Michael Earls

Gray lonely rocks about thee stand,
Ignored of sun and dew,
Yet is thy breath upon the land,
To thy vocation true.

So come they character to me
That works in sunless ways,
And I shall learn to give with thee
Dark hills a constant praise.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'The Columbine' by Michael Earls

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy