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1862–1943

PRAIRIE

Virna Sheard

Where yesterday rolled long waves of gold Beneath the burnished blue of the sky, A silver-white sea lies still and cold, And a bitter wind blows by.

But nothing passes the door all day, Though my watching eyes grow worn and dim, Save a lean, grey wolf that swings away To the far horizon rim.

Then, one by one, the stars glisten out Like frozen tears on a purple pall — The darkness folds my cabin about And the snow begins to fall.

I will make a hearth-fire red and bright And set a light by the window pane For one who follows the trail to-night That will bring him home again.

Love will ride with him my heart to bless — Joy will out-step him across the floor — What matters the great white loneliness When we bar the cabin door?

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PRAIRIE · Virna Sheard · Poetry Cove