Morning-O
At no time in our pad has the ATLANTIC received as many poems as are now submitted to us. They are evidence of an interest in poetry which never slackens and which often burns most brightly in the undergraduate years. As an incentive for writers yet unestablished, we have set aside each year a number of pages in our February and August issues to be devoted to the work of young poets.
BYDEBORAH AUSTIN
Woke
and the quick red fox of morning jumped
over the lazy sleeping blue dog hill
and the neighbor’s cock, on his wooden pinnacle,
was giving the view-halloo . . .
and the quick red fox of morning jumped
over the lazy sleeping blue dog hill
and the neighbor’s cock, on his wooden pinnacle,
was giving the view-halloo . . .
Then the whole pack of birds went
baying down the morning,
glad to be after him again, the old quarry
they never seem to catch, although each day,
unwearied, they give tongue,
whipping the sun up with a lash of song,
hot on the scent of daylight
(carols like red tongues lolling from the wide
beaks, the berry-black eyes bright with the joy
of chase)
baying down the morning,
glad to be after him again, the old quarry
they never seem to catch, although each day,
unwearied, they give tongue,
whipping the sun up with a lash of song,
hot on the scent of daylight
(carols like red tongues lolling from the wide
beaks, the berry-black eyes bright with the joy
of chase)
Riding the heavy trees
which toss their green manes in the early light,
and strain toward the far horizon
where the wind went,
the hunting birds hold fast with their twiggy feet
for the gallop into full summer
which toss their green manes in the early light,
and strain toward the far horizon
where the wind went,
the hunting birds hold fast with their twiggy feet
for the gallop into full summer
And those whose steeds plunge tallest
into the waking sky
shout Gone away! longest and loudest
to the sun’s hot yellow eye.
into the waking sky
shout Gone away! longest and loudest
to the sun’s hot yellow eye.