The branches,
jointed, pointing
up and out, shine
out like brass.
Upon the heavy
lip of earth
the dog
at
moments is
possessed and screams:
The rising moon draws
up his blood and hair.
Back to Yvor Winters
The branches,
jointed, pointing
up and out, shine
out like brass.
Upon the heavy
lip of earth
the dog
at
moments is
possessed and screams:
The rising moon draws
up his blood and hair.
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