WOOD ROADS 



O OME time in the night the tender gray 

 spring mists that the hot afternoon sun 

 had coaxed up from all the meadowy 

 places realized that they were deserted, 

 lost in the darkness. The young moon 

 had gone decorously to bed at nine o'clock, 

 pulling certain cloud puffs of white down 

 over even the tip of her nose, that she 

 might not be tempted to come out and 

 dance with these lovely pale creatures. 



They were dancing then, but later they 

 trembled together in fright, for the kindly 

 stars, their shining eyes grown tremulous 

 with tender tears, vanished too, with- 

 drawn behind the black haze which the 

 north wind sends before it. A nimbus, 

 wind-blown from distant mountain tops, 



