Fragment: 'The Rude Wind Is Singing'
The rude wind is singingThe dirge of the music dead;The cold worms are clingingWhere kisses were lately fed.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.
The rude wind is singingThe dirge of the music dead;The cold worms are clingingWhere kisses were lately fed.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.