pinned entry
favorite poems
i leant upon a coppice gatewhen frost was spectre-grey,
and winter's dregs made desolate
the weakening eye of day.
the tangled bine-stems scored the sky
like strings of broken lyres,
and all mankind that haunted nigh
had sought their household fires.
the land's sharp features seemed to be
the century's corpse outleant,
his crypt the clo…
