From "Love Calls us to the Things of this World (http://www.cs.berkeley.edu/~richie/poetry/html/poem98.html)"
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys, And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple As false dawn. Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels.
If I had to pare it down further, the astounded soul/Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple/As false dawn. would do it.
:) That's one good poem. I think the lines fit Lonely_Lycanth's delicacy, eloquence, and falling feeling rubric. :)
because it's a pain in the ass to post on Guardian
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.
If I had to pare it down further, the astounded soul/Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple/As false dawn. would do it.
:) That's one good poem. I think the lines fit Lonely_Lycanth's delicacy, eloquence, and falling feeling rubric. :)