Still falls the Rain---Lord! Two thousand and five nails now.
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.
Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet
FRESH POSSIBILITIES
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Today we will look at a seasonal poem by A. E. Housman, taking it verse by
verse. XVI — SPRING MORNING Star and coronal and bellApril underfoot
renews,And ...
1 week ago

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