 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XXV
How ran lithe monkeys through the leaves!How rush'd they through, brown clad and blue,
Like shuttles hurried through and through
The threads a hasty weaver weaves!
How quick they cast us fruits of gold,
Then loosened hand and all foothold,
And hung, limp, limber, as if dead,
Hung low and listless overhead;
And all the time with half oped eyes
Bent full on us in mute surprise—
Looked wisely too, as wise hens do
That watch you with the head askew.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |