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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  William H. Simpson

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

De Noche

William H. Simpson

From “Along Old Trails”

O MOTHER of all the dark!

Draw near, on tiptoe,

Blindfold me, and say:

Go to sleep—to sleep—to sleep.

If only the hills of the night would stay in their steadfast places—

Bulging bulk of the hulk of the range.

They creep, like a she-panther, to where I rest in the valley;

They come, down-tumbling, to where I lie on the pine boughs….

The river runs away.

The aspens, by the runaway river, are afraid.