I'll make love to you in all good places -
Under black mountains, in open spaces.
By deep brown rivers that slither darkly,
Through far marches where the blue hare races.
Come with me to the Winged Isle -
Northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
Through far marches of acres wild.
where
western
through
still
slither
shuttered
scatter
windows
rivers
spaces
crumbling
concrete
northern
tiles
streets
races
chimneys
cement
under
black
playing
silent
damply
sagging
child
brown
weary
bricks
winged
dance
discos
fingers
flaking
softly
marches
slide
acres
places
narrow
shoulders
mountains
pointed
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