She stops at the edge of a brook. She sings She runs She urges a long cry toward the heavens Her dress is open unto paradise She is thoroughly charming She stirs a cluster of branches above Slowly she passes her white hand across her brow Between her feet weasels scamper The blue sky crouches in her hat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASHURNATSIRPAL III by CARL SANDBURG HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX by ROBERT BROWNING THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE GENERAL PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER TO A PINE TREE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT, FEBRUARY, 1885 by WALT WHITMAN A SOUL'S SOLILOQUY by WENONAH STEVENS ABBOTT |