Wonder-Bound
THEY’D told me he was hoar and old,
They’d told me he was weak and worn,
And wonder-bound did I behold
Him merry as a summer morn.
Bound, wonder-bound; but when I found
Thine eyes upon his eyes had beam’d,
I only had been wonder-bound
Had he to me less merry seem’d.
Other works by Joseph Skipsey...
