A Month with Yeats: Day Sixteen

From ‘He Mourns for the Change That Has Come Upon Him and Longs for the End of the World’

‘Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?’—W.B. Yeats

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Calling in the darkness as the moon hid
Grunt rooted in the path following change
Then the deer munching in the grasses amid
Nowhere could you find concord range
Everywhere is gloom in the trail we skid
Everyone we see seems to be strange*

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

* Harrisham Rhyme

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Sixteen, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #16

mm

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