Elinor Morton Wylie

Somerville, New Jersey
Elinor Morton Wylie
Somerville, New Jersey
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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
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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
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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