O Dear Brown LandsAuthor(s): Clement WoodSource: Poetry, Vol. 11, No. 3 (Dec., 1917), p. 125Published by: Poetry FoundationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20571471 .

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Dorothy Dudley

Two of them love whiskey, One has loved the sea; All of them have faces

'The wvind has carved in glee. TIhlie mimics dance in the cities, Death across the sea Leaves dance in the north, And the deer run forth.

Dorothy Dudley

0 DEAR BROWN LANDS

0 dear brown lands, out of you I blossomed; I feed on your rooted and wandering fruits. And when my puzzled restlessness is done, You clasp me again, Scattering me over your brown bosom My mother, my sustainer, my children, And my dusty immortality.

COIN OF THE YEAR

November, you old alchemist, Who would have thought You could turn the high arrogance of golden-rod To still plumes of silver?

Clement Wood

[1251

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