Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe; For th'orisonte hath reft the sonne his lyght; This is as muche to seye as it was nyght!
She stands an instant in the sun Athwart her harsh land's red and green Hands of a serf, and warrior eyes Of some flame-sceptred Irish queen. ? As if she does not care that life Has reft the jewels from her hair But grieves that menial needs and base Were those that left her palace bare.Robin pseudonym of IrisGuiver Wilkinson Hyde
The sky is now indelible ink, The branches reft asunder; But you and I we do not shrink; We love the lovely thunder.ogden nash