. . THE STONEMASON.
The sun-scorched weathered stone,
The watery rich grey earth,
With flashing angled steel,
And lays the stone to rest,
With skilful rhythmic ease,
And builds with random stone, (C. B. Thomas. 9/8/88). . . ONLY STONES. Ancient in weathers, Is awakened to use, Is breathed on, And pleasant to my
palm, Before its final
place, (R. Thomas. 9/8/88). . . |
.