Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon

The Woods Entry

So old is the wood, so old,
Old as Fear.
Wrinkled roots; great stems; hushed leaves;
No sound near.
Shadows retreat into shadow,
Deepening, crossed.
Burning light singles a low leaf, a bough,
Far within, lost. 

1. One Year Old
2. A Picture Seen in a Dream
3. The Winds of All the World
4. O World, Be Nobler
5. Fetching the Wounded

Print

1765 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version