My home is below green cliffs I don't cut weeds anymore new vines spiral down ancient rocks stand straight monkeys pick the wild fruit egrets spear the fish one or two books by immortals I chant beneath the trees | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S YOUTH by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A VALEDICTION: OF WEEPING by JOHN DONNE HIS IMMORTALITY by THOMAS HARDY RECESSIONAL by RUDYARD KIPLING THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS |