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The Wolf by Georgia Roberts Durston

The Wolf 
by Georgia Roberts Durston

When the pale moon hides and the wild wind wails,

And over the treetops the nighthawk sails,

The gray wolf sits on the world's far rim

And howls: and it seems to comfort him.

The wolf is a lonely soul, you see,

No beast in the wood, nor bird in the tree,

But shuns his path; in the windy gloom

They give him plenty, and plenty of room.

So he sits with his long, lean face to the sky

Watching the ragged clouds go by.

There in the night, alone, apart,

Singing the song of his lone, wild heart.

Far away, on the world's dark rim

He howls, and it seems to comfort him.