Somewhere.

by John Vance Cheney

John Vance Cheney

The weasel thieves in silver suit,

The rabbit runs in gray;

And Pan takes up his frosty flute

To pipe the cold away.

The flocks are folded, boughs are bare,

The salmon take the sea;

And O my fair, would I somewhere

Might house my heart with thee!





Last updated January 14, 2019