There is a star that runs very fast,
That goes pulling the moon
Through the tops of the poplars.
It is all in silver,
The tall star:
The moon rolls goldenly along
Out of breath.
Mr. Moon, does he make you hurry?

(C) Hilda Conkling
01/01/2000


Best Poems of Hilda Conkling

• Moon Song
• Gift
• Three Loves
• Humming-bird
• Butterfly
• Envoy
• Preface
• The White Cloud
• Hills
• Velvets
• Poems
• Song
• Bluebird
• Poppy
• Water
• Hay-cock
• Thoughts
• Weather
• Morning
• Clouds
• Easter