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Steep as the stairs to a dungeon,
Deep as the trough of a wave, Stony as ledges of rubble, Dark as a fissureless cave, Slippery-sloped as a glacier, Tangled as paths of a maze, Crowded as slums of a city, Lonely as wilderness ways, . . . . . Strange are the streets that the dreamer Follows unwillingly back Into the jungles of chaos, Into the primeval black . . . __May Willams Ward. |
Seesaw
May Williams Ward
page 33
(Atlanta: The Bozart Press. 1929)
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