The Wolf Cry Poem by Lew Sarett
The Wolf Cry
The Arctic moon hangs overhead;
The wide white silence lies below.
A starveling pine stands lone and gaunt,
Black-penciled on the snow.
Weird as the moan of sobbing winds,
A lone long call floats up from the trail;
And the naked soul of the frozen North
Trembles in that wail.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: lies,silence,snow
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8/28/2026 7:20:46 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
