Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/172

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NOCTURNE
The moonlit hillAnd the black treesWhere a hidden birdSings and is still—Even theseLeave me unstirred.
I am hidden deep,Like the secret boughOf a tree in leaf.I am safe asleep—What can touch me nowOf joy or grief?
For night and noonThe sky is shut,The winds are dumb;Behind the moonNo gates are cutFor the winds to come.
Could wind from the moonSweep down until,Like a winter tree,My leaves were strewnOn the moonlit hillAnd I stood free,
Beauty and painWould touch me nowWith bitter cold,As moonbeams rainThrough a naked boughWhen the year is old.
Marjorie Allen SeiffertPoetry, A Magazine of Verse

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