THE WILD DUCK

by: John Masefield

      WILIGHT. Red in the West.
      Dimness. A glow on the wood.
      The teams plod home to rest.
      The wild duck come to glean.
      O souls not understood,
      What a wild cry in the pool;
      What things have the farm ducks seen
      That they cry so--huddle and cry?
      Only the soul that goes.
      Eager. Eager. Flying.
      Over the globe of the moon,
      Over the wood that glows.
      Wings linked. Necks a-strain,
      A rush and a wild crying.
       
      A cry of the long pain
      In the reeds of a steel lagoon,
      In a land that no man knows.

'The Wild Duck' is reprinted from An Anthology of Modern Verse. Ed. A. Methuen. London: Methuen & Co., 1921.

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