Poems by Lloyd Roberts
The Winter Harvest
... Nor birds that pipe from border brush across the yellow grass ...
Come Quietly, Britain!
... It is time! We have waited, weighed, and wondered ...
The Fruit Rancher
... He blasted out the stumps and twitched the boulders from the soil ...
Husbands Overseas
... (Six little rose-faced cherubs who trip shouting through the day), ...
England's Fields
... We see beyond your milk-white cliffs the round, green fields of home ...
Miss Pixie
... Did you ever hear her calling while the whip-poor-wills were calling, ...
