Sunday, July 6, 2014

Tied

They let my brother go where fancy led;
They gave, to me, a little house to sleep.
 "He's like his restless dad," they always said,
 While I had hens to feed and bees to keep.
 Through all the years I played a quiet part
 In that small town with all its rigid bans;
 While all my brother's letters hurt my heart
 With talk of ships and roving caravans.

No comments:

Post a Comment