Friday, April 18, 2014

Ermita In the Rain by Angela Manalang Gloria

It is not the rain that wanly
     Sobs its tale across the bay,
Not the sobs of lone acacias
     Trembling darkly in the gray,

Not the groans of harried breakers
     Flinging tatters on the shore,
But the phantom of your voice that
     Stays me dreaming at my door.

From the POEMS (1940).

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