Frasi di Edward Andrade

“Your father bears an iron reed
Filled with a flame that makes us bleed;
Your kindly mother loves to tear
Feathers and skin to deck her hair.”

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Edward Andrade

Poem A song for Edmund Blunden

“Come, take hands, you are not such
As this will weary overmuch.
Sit we down, and hear rehearse
The marvels of the sweet-souled verse”

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Edward Andrade

Poem With a copy of "The Faithful Shepherdess"

“You know the wild flowers suit your hair:
Place hands full of the purple bloom
Of loosestrife, glad of such soft doom,
And tender-toned narcissus there”

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Edward Andrade

Poem Fate and the Little Flowers