Fall now, my cold thoughts, frozen fall
My sad thoughts, over my heart,
To be the tender burial
Of sweetness and of smart.
Fall soft as the snow, when all men sleep,
On copse and on bank forlorn,
That tenderly buries, yet buries deep
Frail violets, freshly born.
More verses by Robert Laurence Binyon
- Liberation
- Little Hands
- Louvain - To Dom Brunt Destrtt, O.S.B.
- Louvain 19
- Louvain To Dom Bruno Destrée, O.S.B.