by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson (1878 - 1962)

Cruel and bright as the whin
Language: English 
Cruel and bright as the whin
Is my love, my love,
And cold as the light on the linn,
The light of her eyes.

Free as the kestrel in air
Is my love, my love,
And dark as the heather, her hair,
Beneath dark skies.

Like heather burned black by the fire,
Is my heart, my heart,
Burned black to the ash of desire,
As daylight dies.

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2010-09-06
Line count: 12
Word count: 67