A. S. MOTT

A. S. MOTT(MERTON)

A. S. MOTT(MERTON)

A. S. MOTT(MERTON)

I lovethe shadows of things;Pale, grey, patterningsIn the aqueous wonder of dawn:Elm branches distort,Outrageously wroughtOn a woven texture of lawn.Cloud shadows that goIn stateliest pacingOf nebulous gracingDown valleys of tumbled loam:Faint shapes in the snowIntricately interlacing,Of moonlight tracing:The shifting shadow of foam on foam.

I lovethe shadows of things;Pale, grey, patterningsIn the aqueous wonder of dawn:Elm branches distort,Outrageously wroughtOn a woven texture of lawn.Cloud shadows that goIn stateliest pacingOf nebulous gracingDown valleys of tumbled loam:Faint shapes in the snowIntricately interlacing,Of moonlight tracing:The shifting shadow of foam on foam.

I lovethe shadows of things;Pale, grey, patterningsIn the aqueous wonder of dawn:Elm branches distort,Outrageously wroughtOn a woven texture of lawn.Cloud shadows that goIn stateliest pacingOf nebulous gracingDown valleys of tumbled loam:Faint shapes in the snowIntricately interlacing,Of moonlight tracing:The shifting shadow of foam on foam.

I lovethe shadows of things;

Pale, grey, patternings

In the aqueous wonder of dawn:

Elm branches distort,

Outrageously wrought

On a woven texture of lawn.

Cloud shadows that go

In stateliest pacing

Of nebulous gracing

Down valleys of tumbled loam:

Faint shapes in the snow

Intricately interlacing,

Of moonlight tracing:

The shifting shadow of foam on foam.

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