Whose hair, a small black flag,
Broke on the universal air
With proud and lovely brag:
It waved among the silent hills,
A wind of shining ebony
In Time's bright glass, where mirrored clear
Stood the Giraffe beside a Tree.
Walter J. Turner
318
Whose hair, a small black flag,
Broke on the universal air
With proud and lovely brag:
It waved among the silent hills,
A wind of shining ebony
In Time's bright glass, where mirrored clear
Stood the Giraffe beside a Tree.
Walter J. Turner
318