Quivering, the white fawn Watched from an alder thicket, Saw the frost-like etching on willows And the blue gleams of swift waters, But watched for the swaying of grasses Where the trail curved down to the river. So many times She had fled to the depth of her thicket, Startled by the swish of a tamarack bough After a hunter had brushed it. Then one day of sun and deep shadows There were footsteps that crushed fragrant needles. Trembling, with head erect, she paused, Saw the glimmer of sunlight on the head of a traveler, Heard the strong even footsteps, And a new confidence held her there waiting. The next time the traveler came There was a tremor of breathing close to his pathway. Next, a timid figure ventured the trail And darted away in wild madness. At last the rending throb of a heart, As she stood poised, ready to bound away At the least sudden sharp gesture. But the traveler's eyes, clear and brown, looked into hers; Gradually her trembling ceased And the breath came deep and slow through her nostrils. And now when she catches the scent of tamarack on the trail And a head gleams through the green of the needles, She springs down the pathway to meet him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE POET SPEAKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE SLAVE TRADE: VIEW FROM THE MIDDLE PASSAGE by CLARENCE MAJOR |