Song of the Sick Minstrel
The winter night droops down
Around the scratchy trees,
Tinkled by an icy breeze,
Snapping.
Let's stand beside this creaking tree
And watch the bold eclipse
Devour the midnight sun
As if it were a yellow wafer,
Crisp and cold.
At full eclipse,
Then shall I love you,
In snapping cold,
Beneath a moon-dark tree.
From College Poems (1966)
by Alan Harris
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Copyright © 1966 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.
Photo: Alan Harris
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