Escape Poem by Elinor Morton Wylie

Escape

Rating: 2.9


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.

And you may grope for me in vain
In hollows under the mangrove root,
Or where, in apple-scented rain,
The silver wasp-nests hang like fruit.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Quentin West 26 June 2017

I enjoyed this lovely poem.

1 2 Reply
Sylvaonyema Uba 26 June 2017

A musical flow of rhyme built in a quatrain of three stanzas. Sylva.

1 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 26 June 2017

When foxes eat the last gold grape! ! Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing.

1 3 Reply
Jayatissa K. Liyanage 26 June 2017

Is it that the poetess is attempting to foretell us about what will happen at the end of all destructive activities of human, on the nature, I wonder. Enjoyed reading and Congrats for being the poem of the day.

1 0 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 26 June 2017

I enjoyed reading this poem..... thanks for posting👍

0 6 Reply
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Elinor Morton Wylie

Elinor Morton Wylie

Somerville, New Jersey
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