Monday, October 1, 2012

The Hare

In the black furrow of a field  
I saw an old witch-hare this night;  
And she cocked a lissome ear,  
And she eyed the moon so bright,  
And she nibbled o' the green;  
And I whispered“Whsst! witch-hare”,  
Away like a ghostie o'er the field  
She fled, and left the moonlight there.

                          Walter de la Mare

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