Heaven is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That‘ heaven’ is, to me.
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind, —
There Paradise is found!
Cookies on Poetry Cove
We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.