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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396373" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dawn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396373" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Clouds rise from their nests<br>with flapping wings, they whisper<br>of worn leather, bracken, long<br>horizons, and the manes of dark<br>horses. In the waking stream<br>the stones lie like chestnuts<br>in a glass bowl. I pass the bones<br>of an old harrow thrown on its side<br>in the ditch.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396373" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Now the sun appears.<br>It is a fish wrapped in straw.<br>Its scales fall on the sleeping<br>town with its eyeless graineries<br>and necklace of boxcars. Soon<br>the blue wind will flatten the roads<br>with a metallic palm, the glitter<br>of granite will blind the eyes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396373" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But not yet. The beetle still<br>stares from the riding moon, the ship<br>of death stands motionless on<br>frozen waves: I hear<br>the silence of early morning<br>rise from the rocks.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Hitchcock">George Hitchcock</a></strong></div>

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