dots-menu
×

Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Williston Fish

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Swan Creek

Williston Fish

STREAM, stream, stream,

Oh the willows by the stream;

The poplars and the willows

And the gravel all agleam!

Oh, oh, oh,

And the mourning-doves sang “Oh!”

From their hiding in the oak tops,

Looking on the world below.

Sky, sky, sky,

And all wide and round the sky,

With the white clouds rising, coming,

Coming, shining, drifting by.

Home, home, home,

And beyond the wood was home,

With the old road leading ready

Where the open door said come.

Dream, dream, dream,

Now I wake not but I dream

Of the old road and the ring-doves

And the willows by the stream.