The Telephone (English)
One afternoon of wind and sun
I heard from on my pierced throne
Above the tumult of the trees
The screaming of the telephone.
And though love's bitter-sweet had all
Come back I neither thought nor made
A slightest motion; till the long
Enquiring scream went still and dead.
|Uploaded by||Répás Norbert|
|Publisher||Published by True Books (5 Kensington Church Walk London, W8), Printed by Villers Publications Ltd. (Ingestre Road, London, NW5)|
|Source of the quotation||A Dozen Short Poems by D.M.Black|