
Arrays in Grace
These forests grow like chequer-boards,
Their heads are said to lowly growl –
The sea will lash their thousand bolts,
As slowly twists each triple-swords
To whisk the wind and steal its howl
For grinding watts and milling volts.
Arrays in Grace
These forests grow like chequer-boards,
Their heads are said to lowly growl –
The sea will lash their thousand bolts,
As slowly twists each triple-swords
To whisk the wind and steal its howl
For grinding watts and milling volts.