Give them me. Give them…

Photo by Anne McKinnell

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.

Give them me. Give them me.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

Photo by Tim Nowack

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man’s fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.

I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.

Poem Source: Harold Monro, Collected Poems

Inky’s Take: The unusual place in the photos is Goblin State Park in Utah.  Those little rock formations are call hoodoos, and those supposedly in the know attribute the strange look of them to the erosion of wind and sand through time.

Me?  I’m thinking they’re Goblins.  We have no idea what happens when the sun goes down, and they are released from the sun’s chains to explore the inky silk of night.

Oh! Wait, that’s gargoyles, huh?