Ricefields hope gb
Among the rice fields, by Lawrence Hope. Read for leavewithox.org by Garth Burton. She was fair as a passion-flower, but little of love he knew. Her loosened eyes were like amber wine, and her eyelids stained with blue. He called them the gates of fair desire, and the lakes where beauty lay.
But I looked into them once, and saw the eyes of beasts of prey. He praised her teeth, that were small and white as lilies upon his lawn. While I remembered a tiger's fangs that met in a speckled fawn. She had her way, a lover the more, and I had a friend the less. For long there was nothing to do but wait and suffer his happiness.
But now I shall choose the sharpest Chris, and nestle it in her breast. For dead he is drifting down to sea, and his own hand wrought his rest. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
