Lost Valley (verse)
Frost, Frances M.
£ost Valley At dawn there was no valley. River-mist Had captured hill and meadow-land, and left A white wall where the old fence crooked a wrist Around night pastures. He was well...
...Ghostly and wan, he brought ghost cattle in Out of a silver-shrouded pasture-lot...
...He knew his acres as he knew his kin, And knew the acres stayed there, mist or not...
...For finding cattle, there was but the trail Of far bells shaken through the solid white...
...But closing the bars, he caught his breath to see The sun like a great gold eye, and one black tree...
...Frances M. Frost...
...He was well bereft Of his familiar landmarks: barn and rail, Pine wood and rock had vanished overnight...
Vol. 12 • September 1930 • No. 19
