“In the shade I should have known the tree which gave it, without looking up,—not because the sharp little spicular leaves of the fir, miniatures of that sword Rome used to open the world, its oyster, would drop and plunge themselves into my eyes, or would insert their blades down my back and scarify,—but because […]
I feel oh so near When morning doves appear And ghosts of April ring Echo the refrain Soon finding a place In these lost verses. —Sun Kil Moon, “Lost Verses” from April