Author Ernest Walsh The body ever therea white palmAnd with no voicebecause of the windThe black hair black birdsin flightThrough white gateslockedagainst the fingersAnd far the rainat the arched tailfullfeathered summerAnd wind to performin the breast. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments