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1865–1914

THE WINTER MOON

Madison Julius Cawein

Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose, A face of icy fire, o'er the hills; With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills, And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows:

Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goes To her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fears Fix demon eyes behind each bush she nears; Stops, yet must on, fearful of following foes.

And so I chased her, startled in the wood, Like a discovered Oread, who flies The Faun who found her sleeping, each nude limb Glittering betrayal through the solitude;

Till in a frosty cloud I saw her swim, Like a drowned face, a blur beneath the ice.

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THE WINTER MOON · Madison Julius Cawein · Poetry Cove