Somewhere
John Vance Cheney
The weasel thieves in silver suit, The rabbit runs in gray; And Pan takes up his frosty flute To pipe the cold away. The flocks are folded, boughs are bare, The salmon take the sea; And O my fair, would I somewhere Might house my heart with thee!
![[Poetry X Logo]](http://poetryx.com/images/poetryXLogo.gif)
