Classic poem of the day
I was the midmost of my world
When first I frisked me free,
For though within its circuit gleamed
But a small company,
And I was immature, they seemed
To bend their looks on me.
She was the midmost of my world
When I went further forth,
And hence it was that, whether I turned
To south, east, west, or north,
Beams of an all-day Polestar burned
From that new axe of earth.
Where now is midmost in my world?
I trace i......
Member poem of the day
Dewdrops dribble at a point,
where morning quietly crawls,
The shrieking raven shakes leaves,
leaves whilst making chilling calls,
Squirrels flit from tree to branch,
when I can barely yawn,
All at once a looping halo,
splits a creeping dawn,
Sounds of...