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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  John Crawford

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

Sumach

John Crawford

From “Night”

AN OLD monk is my night….

Long ago he was young …

Song shone between his lips,

And a necklace of round white arms

Fulfilled his throat….

Dried fruit of trees

That blossom in bitterness

Rustle on his bent shoulders …

Wry grey flesh festoons his yellow teeth….

My night is old….