by Hilda Conkling (1910 - 1986)

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

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This text was added to the website: 2025-12-13
Line count: 8
Word count: 43