The Wolf Cry Poem by Lew Sarett
The Wolf Cry
The Arctic moon hangs overhead;
The wide white silence lies below.
A starveling pine stands lone and gaunt,
Black-penciled on the snow.
Weird as the moan of sobbing winds,
A lone long call floats up from the trail;
And the naked soul of the frozen North
Trembles in that wail.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
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5/1/2024 6:44:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
