The clouds had made a crimson crown
Above the mountains high.
The stormy sun was going down
In a stormy sky.
Why did you let your eyes so rest on me,
And hold your breath between?
In all the ages this can never be
As if it had not been.
More verses by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
- ‘he Came Unto His Own, And His Own Received Him Not’
- Blue And White
- Death And The Lady
- I Ask Of Thee, Love, Nothing But Relief