American

Cobwebs

by reely · March 1, 2012

by EDITH L.M. KING (1871-1962)

Between me and the rising sun,
This way and that the cobwebs run;
Their myriad wavering lines of light
Dance up the hill and out of sight.

There is no land possesses half
So many lines of telegraph
As those the spider-elves have spun
Between me and the rising sun.

Tags: Edith L.M. King

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