OF marsh-mallows my boat is made, The ropes are lily-roots. The pole-star is athwart the sky: The moon sinks low. It's at the ferry I'm plucking lilies, But it might be the Yellow River -- So afraid you seem of the wind and waves, So long you tarry at the crossing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAR THAT ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK by JAMES GALVIN WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS SENRYU: BLIND DATE by TIMOTHY LIU SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JAMES GARBER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO-MORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |