[The grass is beneath my head]

The grass is beneath my head;
and I gaze
at the thronging stars
in the night.

They fall… they fall…
I am overwhelmed,
and afraid.

Each leaf of the aspen
is caressed by the wind,
and each is crying.

And the perfume
of invisible roses
deepens the anguish.

Let a strong mesh of roots
feed the crimson of roses
upon my heart;
and then fold over the hollow
where all the pain was.

Credit

This poem is in the public domain.

Author

F. S. Flint

F. S. Flint was born in London, England, on December 19, 1885. He grew up in poverty and finished his formal education at age thirteen. In 1904, he began a career in civil service as a typist, and in 1908, he began writing reviews and articles for the literary journal New Age.

Flint was the author of three poetry collections: Otherword, Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1920), Cadences (Poetry Bookshop, 1915), and In the Net of Stars (E. Matthews, 1909).

Date Published

08/14/2017