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The Wild Duck a poem by John Masefield


THE WILD DUCK
John Masefield

Twilight. 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 a poem by John Masefield

 

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