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Edgar Lee Masters (1868–1950). Spoon River Anthology. 1916.

168. Dillard Sissman

THE BUZZARDS wheel slowly

In wide circles, in a sky

Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.

And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie

Beating the grass into long waves.

My kite is above the wind,

Though now and then it wobbles,

Like a man shaking his shoulders;

And the tail streams out momentarily,

Then sinks to rest.

And the buzzards wheel and wheel,

Sweeping the zenith with wide circles

Above my kite. And the hills sleep.

And a farm house, white as snow,

Peeps from green trees—far away.

And I watch my kite,

For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,

Then she will swing like a pendulum dial

To the tail of my kite.

A spurt of flame like a water-dragon

Dazzles my eyes—

I am shaken as a banner!