THE WILD DUCK
Twilight. Red in the West. Dimness. A glow on the wood. The teams plod home to rest. The wild duck come to glean. O, souls, not understood, What a wild cry in the pool; What things have the farm ducks seen That they cry so—huddle and cry? Only the soul that goes, Eager. Eager. Flying Over the globe of the moon, Over the wood that glows. Wings linked: necks a-strain, A rush and a wild crying. A cry of the long pain In the reeds of a steel lagoon. In a land that no man knows. —John Masefield.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19270518.2.191
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 47, 18 May 1927, Page 14
Word Count
101THE WILD DUCK Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 47, 18 May 1927, Page 14
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