Summer 1944 • Vol. VI No. 3 Poetry |

Midwatcher

Cream shade down in the houseUpon the whitest noonWithdraws from noon’s dispenseA treble gleaming dream. The dreaming eye yet views,I swear by all this sun,Calendar on the wall And photo of its class. But will not; and it fightsTo make the symbols come,To win a childish loreIn its eight hours off. To deepened be and lostTo frightened be and heldTo quiet be and seeIn the spent afternoonAn underlidded dawn.

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Cream shade down in the houseUpon the whitest noonWithdraws from noon’s dispenseA treble gleaming dream. The dreaming eye yet views,I swear by all this sun,Calendar on the wall And photo […]

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