The lean white birches of the moon Leaped through the hoop of the noon. The spider spun her purling lies Snaring believing little flies. The blossom, golden-hearted, bore The worm that ate the apple's core. A sin put on so sweet a dress Virtue laughed at her light caress. Thus it was, long, long ago: What came after I do not know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MUJER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A CLEVER WOMAN by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING LETTY'S GLOBE by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER PLAYING IT SAFE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |