It's time to walk to the cider mill. Through air like apple wine, And watch the moon rise over the hill, stinging and hard and fine. It's time to bury your seed pods deep. And let them wait and be warm. It's time to sleep the heavy sleep. That does not wake for the storm.
Stephen Vincent BenetAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: July 22, 1898
- Died: March 13, 1943
Related Authors
Topics
Quotes currently Trending
Whereas during those months of separation time had never gone quickly enough for their liking and they were wanting to speed its flight, now that they were in sight of the town they would have liked to slow it down and hold each moment in suspense, once the breaks went on and the train was entering the station. For the sensation, confused perhaps, but none the less poingant for that, of all those days and weeks and months of life lost to their love made them vaguely feel they were entitled to...
Albert Camus