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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Mary Eastwood Knevels

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Rocks

Mary Eastwood Knevels

THROUGH the pasture lie the rocks, gray as the sea in a fog,

As the sea in a mist.

(O breath of my yearning, O sea, breaking gray in a fog!)

The rocks rise tumultuous, the rocks are waves.

Flee from them, they are in pursuit;

Lichen-crusted their summits, rolling most mightily.

Flee from the rocks, the pale-crested waves of the meadows!