Nets to Catch the Wind by Elinor Wylie
page 20 of 36 (55%)
page 20 of 36 (55%)
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And that is my roof.
Here is my food, And here is my drink, And I am wooed From the moon's brink. And the days go over, And the nights end; Here is my lover, Here is my friend. All that I Could ever ask Wears that sky Like a thin gold mask. ESCAPE When foxes eat the last gold grape, And the last white antelope is killed, I shall stop fighting and escape Into a little house I'll build. But first I'll shrink to fairy size, With a whisper no one understands, Making blind moons of all your eyes, And muddy roads of all your hands. |
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