Rollo Britten
Leave the lovely words unsaid;For another thought is fledFrom my dream-entangled mind.Bird of passion, unenshrined,I can never phrase thee quite—So I speed thee on thy flight,Unembodied thus forever,Floating in a mist that neverMay be raised. Thou art oneOf the black-winged birds that run,With uncomprehended flight,Unimpeded down the night.
Leave the lovely words unsaid;For another thought is fledFrom my dream-entangled mind.Bird of passion, unenshrined,I can never phrase thee quite—So I speed thee on thy flight,Unembodied thus forever,Floating in a mist that neverMay be raised. Thou art oneOf the black-winged birds that run,With uncomprehended flight,Unimpeded down the night.
Leave the lovely words unsaid;For another thought is fledFrom my dream-entangled mind.Bird of passion, unenshrined,I can never phrase thee quite—So I speed thee on thy flight,Unembodied thus forever,Floating in a mist that neverMay be raised. Thou art oneOf the black-winged birds that run,With uncomprehended flight,Unimpeded down the night.
Leave the lovely words unsaid;
For another thought is fled
From my dream-entangled mind.
Bird of passion, unenshrined,
I can never phrase thee quite—
So I speed thee on thy flight,
Unembodied thus forever,
Floating in a mist that never
May be raised. Thou art one
Of the black-winged birds that run,
With uncomprehended flight,
Unimpeded down the night.