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Poem by Elinor Wylie


The Poor Old Cannon


Upbroke the sun 
In red-gold foam; 
Thus spoke the gun 
At the Soldiers Home:

Whenever I hear 
Blue thunder speak 
My voice sounds clear 
But little and weak.

And when the proud 
Young cockerels crow 
My voice sounds loud, 
But gentle and low.

When the mocking-bird 
Prolongs his note 
I cannot be heard 
Though I split my throat.



Elinor Wylie


Elinor Wylie's other poems:
  1. Madmans Song
  2. Primavera in the North
  3. Curious Circumstance
  4. Parting Gift
  5. The Lost Path


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