On a Waning Gibbous


Oh, how this pretty moon can pull
at a man’s heart, o’er here in Wisconsin;
as much as ebb the North Sea away
from the sandy shores of Holland,
and draw her back again, to a drowning!

That selfsame moon great-grandpa John
must have followed on the sea,
when he left the windmilled coast behind,
(and the Protestants) for lea, pulled
West to this Fox River Valley.


About A. S. Ellis

I am always learning. Always. And that is as it should be.
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