O Siva! Beat my soul like a rug Spread on the grass, Struck by tough saplings, Till it wrinkles and writhes, And the dust rises, Blown off by the wind. So make my soul clean, Yes, soft for thy feet, O Siva! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME FORGET by OMA CARLYLE ANDERSON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 7 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT GRISELDA: CHAPTER 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 19 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT GORMFLAITH'S SONG, FR. KING LEAR'S WIFE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY AN ODD CONCEIT by NICHOLAS BRETON SEAWARD by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |