The Seed-Shop


Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie, Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand, Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry-- Meadows and gardens running through my hand. Dead that shall quicken at the call of Spring, Sleepers to stir beneath June's magic kiss, Though birds pass over, unremembering, And no bee seek here roses that were his. In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams, A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust That will drink deeply of a century's streams, These lilies shall make summer on my dust. Here in their safe and simple house of death, Sealed in their shells a million roses leap; Here I can blow a garden with my breath, And in my hand a forest lies asleep.


Congratulations! Your recitation has been created. Let's wait and see what others think of your performance.

Now playing

sergey May 20, 2013 at 7:45am

This is awful and robratterman sucks!

Reply

robert-bobert May 21, 2013 at 3:10am

Yeah, this guy is just nuts!

robratterman May 21, 2013 at 3:12am

YOU BOTH ARE FIRED!!!

poemz recitations




No one has recorded this poem yet! Be the first!
more

or

Upload .mp3 file
or click here to cancel.

Please allow us to use your microphone...

Recording in progress

00:00

Please wait while we upload your record...

Review your performance