The Evening Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR
The Evening
Rating: ★5.0
The Cow-boy of song in the blues
Behold him, be seated alone
Neath such a tree has no magic shadow
Slope of the hill his straw-hut, mystic meadow.
His flute floating away on wild stream
Evening birds coming back fluttering
The sun about to set coloured ascension
The carol of dark-tune-lady the sky would sing.
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: evening
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8/8/2025 1:50:20 AM # 1.0.0
