The Feast Of Famine Comments

Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one of the dead, The priest lay still in his house with the roar of the sea in his head; There was never a foot on the floor, there was never a whisper of speech; Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding beach. wonderful poem. the strain you would have taken to write this, . wonderful. tony

I am enjoy this poem thank for sharing this poem