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Poem by Elinor Wylie

Primavera in the North

She has danced for leagues and leagues, 
Over thorns and thistles, 
Prancing to a tune of Grieggs 
Performed on willow whistles.

Antelopes behold her, dazed, 
Velvet-eyed, and furry; 
Polar flowers, crackle-glazed, 
Snap beneath her hurry.

In a wig of copper wire, 
A gown of scalloped gauzes, 
She capers like a flame of fire 
Over Arctic mosses.

All her tears have turned to birds, 
All her thoughts of dolour 
Paint the snow with scarlet words 
And traceries of colour.

Elinor Wylie

Elinor Wylie's other poems:
  1. Madmans Song
  2. Curious Circumstance
  3. The Lost Path
  4. Venetian Interior
  5. The Pekingese

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