Poetry of Kansas

Let Us Sit Near.

Trees are withdrawn in beauty
    Hills in their blue reserve.
The moon is cool, and finished
    Is her pure and flawless curve.
They are too perfect. I am
    Broken, beset with fear,
Struggling, like you   .   .   For comfort
    Let us sit near, sit near.

May Williams Ward
page 15
(Atlanta: The Bozart Press. 1929)

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August 16, 2004 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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