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Poem of the Week: Overheard on a Salt Marsh

Overheard on a Salt Marsh
by Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds. Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads. I desire them.

No.

I will howl in a deep lagoon for your green glass beads, I love them so. Give them me. Give them me.

No.

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Comments

tdiym
Oct. 31st, 2007 08:44 pm (UTC)
LOVE that and I think I vaguely remembered it from my childhood somewhere along the line. Loved it then, too! Thanks for posting it.

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