by: Zona Gale (1874-1938)
glad of the straight lines of the rain;
- Of the free blowing curves of the grain;
- Of the perilous swirling and curling of fire;
- The sharp upthrust of a spire;
- Of the ripples on the river
- Where the patterns curl and quiver
- And sun thrills;
- Of the innumerable undulations of the hills.
- But the true line is drawn from my spirit to some infinite
- That line I cannot trace.
POEMS BY ZONA GALE
"Contours" is reprinted
from The Secret Way. Zona Gale. New York: Macmillan Co.,