Poetry of Kansas

Elf Sorrow

The Wild Things tremble through the wood tonight;
        The wan moon veils her face
In a soft cloud-shimmer, in a cowl of white;
        With slow and solemn pace
She spreads grey shrouds along the marsh below___
The Wild Things startle with a cry of woe.
 
The Wild Things whimper in the arms of night
        Lamenting for their dead;
The pale moon gathers up the shrouds of white
        And darkly veils her head;
And naught is heard along the marsh below
But small, sad mourners and their wail of woe.

__Allan Crafton

Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 33
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)

 
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February 23, 2003 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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