Stuff of the moon
Runs on the lapping sand
Out to the longest shadows.
Under the curving willows,
And round the creep of the wave line,
Fluxions of yellow and dusk on the waters
Make a wide dreaming pansy of an old pond in the night.

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1 Comment

  1. paige says:

    This poem is very interesting! It makes you think about the wonders it speacks! Carl Sandburg is a very lovely poet!

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