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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
60
THE HERON
I
EVENING
A vein of flame, the long creek crawlsBeneath dark brows of woodland walls,
Red where the sunset's crimson falls.
One wiry leg drawn to his breast,
Neck-shrunk, at solitary rest,
The heron stands among the bars.
II
NIGHT
The whimpering creek breaks on the stone,Where for a while the new moon shone
With one white star and one alone.
Lank haunter of lone marshy lands
The melancholy heron stands,
Then, clamoring, dives into the stars.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |