Fall 1956 • Vol. XVIII No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1956 |

Ballet

Three who are one in blood Without the blessing of sun, Wade in the brake, a flood Down the hill, to run The pheasant cock, gamely hid, Male iridescence quelled Under the weedy dun. Two men and a boy dance Rifles up, measures apart, Waist high in the brake for a chance At the pheasant's heart. He runs like a hen, head down In a cunning art. It is a fine day in the open season, Hounds on a nearby farm sweetly bay, The ring like a charm closes upon the cock, In a dream of frivolity He rises before the stock. Three who have disarrayed A thousand feathers of gold, Mired in the weeds wade Toward the marvelous cock turned cold, With his armored spurs aglint, By his cock-gold legs they hold.

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

This Space

By Ruth Stone

Three who are one in blood Without the blessing of sun, Wade in the brake, a flood Down the hill, to run The pheasant cock, gamely hid, Male iridescence quelled […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.