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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427783" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427783" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now let the draughtsman of my eyes be done <br>marking the line of petal and of hill. <br>Let the long commentary of the brain <br>be silent. Evening and the earth are one, <br>and bird and tree are simple and stand still. <br>Now, fragile heart swung in your webs of vein, <br>and perilous self won hardly out of clay, <br>gather the harvest of last light, and reap <br>the luminous fields of sunset for your bread. <br>Blurs the laborious focus of the day <br>and shadow brims the hillside slow as sleep. <br>Here is the word that, when all words are said, <br>shall compass more than speech. The sun is gone; <br>draws on the night at last; the dream draws on.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Judith+Wright">Judith Wright</a></strong></div>

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