The lean white birches of the moon Leaped through the hoop of the noon. The spider spun her purling lies Snaring believing little flies. The blossom, golden-hearted, bore The worm that ate the apple's core. A sin put on so sweet a dress Virtue laughed at her light caress. Thus it was, long, long ago: What came after I do not know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLACE FOR A THIRD by ROBERT FROST MATER AMABILIS by EMMA LAZARUS THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: REV. PERCY FERGUSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |