Here you will find the Poem The Cloudberry of poet Muriel Stuart
Give me no coil of daemon flowers- Pale Messalines that faint and brood Through the spent and secret twilight hours On their strange feasts of blood. Five me wild things of moss and peat- The gipsy flower that bravely goes, The heather's little hard, brown feet, And the black eyes of sloes. But most of all the cloudberry That offers in her clean, white cup The melting snows-the cloudberry! Where the great winds go up To the hushed peak whose shadow fills The air with silence calm and wide- She lives, the Dian of the hills, And the streams course beside.
