of words, in the long fields dipping down
front hinge, 90ºcw
Christopher La Farge. Each to the other, a novel in verse (1939) : link
(University of Florida copy, via archive.org)
We can feel the wind blow now,
See the trees bend and the long tufts of pine needles sway.
Patter of words from the waiting ones.
Puttering words of Lucy Moore, forever bridging over the crises
Of George Barstow's fury and his captivity
Christopher La Farge (1897-1956)
wikipedia : link