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Poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese Sunrise The east is yellow as a daffodil. Three steeples—three stark swarthy arms—are thrust Up from the town. The gnarlèd poplars thrill Down the long street in some keen salty gust— Straight from the sea and all the sailing ships— Turn white, black, white again, with noises sweet And swift. Back to the night the last star slips. High up the air is motionless, a sheet Of light. The east grows yellower apace, And trembles: then, once more, and suddenly, The salt wind blows, and in that moment’s space Flame roofs, and poplar-tops, and steeples three; From out the mist that wraps the river-ways, The little boats, like torches, start ablaze. Lizette Woodworth Reese Lizette Woodworth Reese's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: ![]() 1220 Views |
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