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The Loon's Cry Post by :JBowery Category :Poems Author :Frank Oliver Call Date :October 2011 Read :3515

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The Loon's Cry

Outside the tent
Darkness and giant trees swaying in the wind.
The lake is moaning in its troubled sleep.
And far across the lazy lapping waves,
Above the crooning of the wind,
I hear a wild loon crying,
Like a weary soul alone on the dark water.

Inside the tent
Your gentle breathing,
Untroubled by crooning wind or wailing loon;
Your face is lighted by the embers of the fire.

Fainter and farther away echoes the loon's cry,
But now it is only the voice of Loneliness
Bidding me farewell,
As it passes away into the night.

You stir in your sleep softly
And turn your face to me,--
And the loon cries no more.

(The end)
Frank Oliver Call's poem: Loon's Cry

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Prayer Prayer

I. A wind-bell hung at the gateway of an ancient temple And played the music taught it by the wind, At times soft, like bubbles breaking in a fountain, When the breeze of summer night caressed it, Then loud and jangling when the typhoon swept across the sea, Or low and moaning when the temple gongs sounded for prayer. And the people, Who never heard the music of the wind, Paused to listen to the wind-bell, And then passed on through the temple gate, With music echoing in their ears.

Cups Of Jade Cups Of Jade

Cups Of Jade
The mists lie along the iris-purple valleys; The little wooden bridge, Where the waterfall rings its silver bells, Is a bow of darkness; The dust of the highway is gray as ashes under our feet; A cloud of night-birds Dots the orange sky. All day our paths have led us side by side Along the steep hot highways. It is cool evening now, And the temple bells call you one way And the silence calls me another. We come to the white door-posts of your house, We leave