Woman, never cock’s crow sounded sweet before!
Set the casement wide ajar, fasten back the door!
Eh, but I be cold an’ stiff, waitin’ for th’ dawn;
Fetch me flowers--jessamine--see, the food is gone....
Light enough to see her now.... Mary! How her face
Shines on us like altar fires, now she’s sure o’ grace!
Never mind your Book, my lamb, never mind your beads,
There’s th’ Gleam before you now, follow where it leads.
V
Tearful peace and gentle grief
Brood on Willow Farm:
Margot, sleeping in her flowers,
Smiles, secure from harm:
In a cave across the moor,
Dank and dark within,
Moans the trafficker in souls,
Freshly bowed with sin.
_Smart Set_ _Ruth Comfort Mitchell_