Edward Lewis Davison

1989-1970 / Glasgow

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'Falls from a cloud the singing bird
Into her nest of grass;
Say to me but a single word
And I will let you pass.
'Between her winking stars the moon
Pauses beyond the hill:
Whisper that word - oh, whisper soon
And pass me if you will.
'The wood grows darker, quieter
Than ever yet it was:
One word amid the whisperless air
And I will let you pass.
Listened the waiting leaves all night,
Shadow and bush and mound::
The high moon shed a softer light -
There was not any sound
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