Author Wilson Pugsley MacDonald There was a stir, like gossamer, When Rismel slipt to sea. And with a stir, like gossamer, The deeps shall welcome me: But at Gramard's gates the Bridegroom waits; And His words shall make me free. Tags Short Poems 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