Classic Poem

Just now … O blown too faint and still,
A shudder of tone. I know not how …
But some one called me from a hill
Just now.

A moth beats at my hair and brow
A soft gray song that leaves me chill …
The moth blurs blindly on somehow.

A bird sang madly and a mill
Hummed and a wet smell edged the plow,
And your white hand was warm … until …