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Touched

Topics: classic

I gladly left     The noisy death of the city,     With its thousands of leering faces,     The yellow night of the alleys.     I stride into the broad,     Silver sky;     The pious limbs glide     Deep into gently being.     I am in the white brightness     Of cloud, meadow, wind.     Am tree, am town, am child...     How wet are my eyes!     Soon the green evening will stand     At its silver end...     I raise blessed hands -     I want to go to meet it -

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"I gladly left..."

Exploring the themes of classic, Alfred Lichtenstein delivers a powerful performance in "Touched"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

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"The poet thought: ah, I have enough trash!     The..."

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