Author Alfred Kreymborg She came — That wistful child — On her way to red. Deep red: She came — And they tried to tell him She was Dawn. She went — That listless thing — On her way to black, Deep black: She went — And they tried to tell him She was Night. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments