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Poem by Elinor Wylie
Better to see your cheek grown hollow, Better to see your temple worn, Than to forget to follow, follow, After the sound of a silver horn. Better to bind your brow with willow And follow, follow until you die, Than to sleep with your head on a golden pillow, Nor lift it up when the hunt goes by. Better to see your cheek grow sallow And your hair grown gray, so soon, so soon, Than to forget to hallo, hallo, After the milk-white hounds of the moon.
Elinor Wylie's other poems:
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