Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Hilda Conkling

Song for a Play

Soldier drop that golden spear!

Wait till the fires arise!

Wait till the sky drops down and touches the spear,

Crystal and mother-of-pearl!

The sunlight droops forward

Like wings.

The birds sing songs of sun-drops.

The sky leans down where the spear stands upward. . .

I hear music . . .

It is the end . . .