When I was a young girl, With a tilted chin, Passed I by this door and that Laughing at my kin. Then there burst a red sun, Spilling windless flame, Spattering my ash-white bones With a secret name. Ran I to a wide door, Where a candle burned High above a hundred heads, Not a face upturned. "Poof!" I snapped my fingers; "Poof!" I tossed my chin, As the withered whispers begged By the dance-way in. In the strew of twilight, Through the kitchen door, Dragged I like a blinded hare With the wounds I bore. Now I am an Old One, Remembering it . . . And that old red cow of Christ's Fallen in a pit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HELEN (2) by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE LAMPLIGHTER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO AN ETHICAL PREACHER by BRENT DOW ALLINSON PSALM 89 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE ARTIST TO HIS WIFE by STANLEY KILNER BOOTH THE WATCHERS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE MY KATE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A MEMORIAL ABSTRACT OF A SERMON PREACHED ON PROVERBS, XX, 27 by JOHN BYROM |