Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/155

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Like wolvesThe winds came upon my fruit trees,And tore them to the ground;But there are no stonesTo kill the wolves of the wind,And no curses to wither their teeth.
The New RepublicDavid Rosenthal


HILLTOP DUET
The Tree  Old Vagabond Wind,  Will you never take root?  Will you never settle down  To the soil,  And bear fruit?
The Wind  Old Stay-at-home Tree,  Will you never take wing?  Will you never break loose,  And roam free  Like a king?
Both  The earth is for you,  And the air is for me—  But the poor little fishes,  (Those little white fishes)  Must stay in the sea,  In the cold slimy sea—  Brrr . . .
Emmy Veronica SandersPoetry, A Magazine of Verse

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