by John Vance Cheney
There be two things that haunt my dreams: the flower
Swinging on rocky hilltops all alone,
The minstrelsy of silence at the hour
When the last bird has to her hiding flown.
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Haunting My Dreams
Poems of the Day
There be two things that haunt my dreams: the flower
Swinging on rocky hilltops all alone,
The minstrelsy of silence at the hour
When the last bird has to her hiding flown.