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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THISTLE-DOWN, by CLARA DOTY BATES First Line: Never a beak has my white bird Last Line: Is the thistle-down. Subject(s): Bords | |||
NEVER a beak has my white bird, Nor throat for song; But wings of silk by soft wind stirred Bear it along. With wings of silk and a heart of seed, Over field and town It sails, -- ah! quaint little bird indeed Is the thistle-down. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KING'S JEWEL by PHOEBE CARY THE PARTY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT by HENRY HOWARD THE YOUNG MOTHER by KAY CAMMACK |
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