Autumn 1941 • Vol. III No. 4 Younger PoetsFebruary 17, 2024 |

Forever Flight

When on a pewter-painted dawnLight folds half around the trees,East flamingo, the rest brownAs if once smoked by a night’s navies, What’s to prevent the pick-shaped duckIn mounting green and scudding airWith beak outheld that he give his backTo beaks swung out on a southern tier— From beating friendly as a flagAgainst the daytime north, aloneAs seldom voice and taut, blackShape was ever highly flown? Should he so point and should he goTo the silver earth at ultimate last—Not dust distributed on snowBut wings maintaining wide and fast.

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The Younger Poets

By J. C. R.

When on a pewter-painted dawnLight folds half around the trees,East flamingo, the rest brownAs if once smoked by a night’s navies, What’s to prevent the pick-shaped duckIn mounting green and […]

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