W. G. Hiraeth Poems

Best Poem of W. G. Hiraeth

Sisyphus And The Rock
"There," you said, "Observe his back." Each muscle
Ripples, alive with the strain and the sharp pain
That pressures as we look. The arched back strung;
Wrung, his thighs, calves, feet, forcing against Earth. His stretched arms and hands, as fine as Adam's,
Point the agonised push from Earth . . .
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Plimoth Plantation (V)
My knock and call went unanswered, so we
Walked 'round the small thatched cottage to the back.
Mistress Anne sat knitting in the garden:
In the costume of sixteen-twenty-one. She said: "I come from Step-nie and am glad
Sir, you both come from Lunnon now." She looked
Tense; worn; was summer-browned; . . .
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