Poems about seed
This Might Have Perished Every Step
joy to have perished every step
insert the thing that caused it
this might have been the hand
i could not bear the bees should come,
and will endure as long as he
and they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
parched the flowers they bear along,
on the look of death,
wait till the majesty of death
till ranks of seeds their witness bear
even through them this