KANSAS COLLECTION BOOKS
SOME OF THE RHYMES OF IRONQUILL.




Elusion.


The prairie grasses whispered in my ear
               From year to year,
Strange melodies whose burning verses stole
               Into my soul,
Strange songs which ever and anon would come
And sing themselves to me and hum and hunt
               Beyond control.

Yet when I tried to capture, word for word,
               The songs I heard,
The written verses lost, it seemed to me,
               The pictured melody.
I had not said that which I tried to say
The music had in some uncertain way
               Eluded me.



Divider line of thick olive-green leaves


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