Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THISTLE-DOWN, by CLARA DOTY BATES



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THISTLE-DOWN, by            
First Line: Never a beak has my white bird
Last Line: Is the thistle-down.
Subject(s): Bords


NEVER a beak has my white bird,
Nor throat for song;
But wings of silk by soft wind stirred
Bear it along.

With wings of silk and a heart of seed,
Over field and town
It sails, -- ah! quaint little bird indeed
Is the thistle-down.





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