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The Wolves; They Sing.

Poetry By: Enw Anhysbys
Poetry


For sour are the berries on the bush.


Submitted:Jan 24, 2012    Reads: 15    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


Sing down the moon-O wolves of night,

For thou knows not thy power.

Yet keep me up-O wolves of night,

Past high moon and witching hour.

For thou hast made me one with land

And glad am I

For sour

Are the berries on the bush.

Bring up the sun-O wolves of day,

With thy chariots of graceful fire-

And make the light dance-O wolves of night,

So the firedancers may tire

As they wire with fire

For sour,

Are the berries on the bush.





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