close close2 chevron-circle-left chevron-circle-right twitter bookmark4 facebook3 twitter3 pinterest3 feed4 envelope star quill

Iris

by Hilda Conkling

Whiter than snow, sharp whiteness,
With fanning leaves, small and straight
Like herself,
With head to the sky
And violet eyes wide-open,
Iris comes murmering a song
As trees do,
And leans upon the wind.
Later she droops her head,
For the dark
Has caught her . . .