Hoar-Frost Poem by Amy Lowell

Hoar-Frost

Rating: 2.7


In the cloud gray mornings
I heard the herons Flying
And when I came into my garden,
My silken outer-garment
Trailed over withered leaves.
A dried leaf crumbles at a touch,
But I have seen many Autumns
With herons blowing like smoke
Across the sky.

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Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

Boston, Massachusetts
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