Chapter 57
Tiredness by Radcliffe Hall. Read for LibriVox.org by Mihai Boroboca. It is weary, weary this waiting for that which can never be. It is dreary, dreary this mating with tears and despondency. And methinks if beneath the grasses there was somewhere both still and deep. I would close my eyes to the morning and thankfully fall asleep. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
