posted on 2024-04-25, 17:29authored byFirst World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team
<p dir="ltr"> Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead<br> Hang stars like seeds of light<br> In vain, though not since they were sown was bred<br> Anything more bright.<br> And evermore mighty multitudes ride<br> About, nor enter in;<br> Of the other multitudes that dwell inside<br> Never yet was one seen.<br> The forest foxglove is purple, the marguerite<br> Outside is gold and white,<br> Nor can those that pluck either blossom greet<br> The others, day or night.<br></p>