Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INDIAN PIPES, by WINIFRED WELLES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

INDIAN PIPES, by                    
First Line: These are the flowers for a mad bride
Last Line: Leaf, stem and cup, but could not last the night.
Alternate Author Name(s): Shearer, Harold H., Mrs.
Subject(s): Flowers


These are the flowers for a mad bride --
At dusk, on the black earth, under black trees,
She shall fill her torn, white hands with these.
She shall be heard by all the countryside,
When she comes singing to the woods' edge --
Whiter than dogwood shall flutter on the ledge
The silver tatters of her bridal dress.
Singing in a cracked voice a song of craziness,
Down the vague meadow, where her floating veil
Rests on the mist, she shall wander till her wail
Dies along the river in the mown hay.

There they shall find her at break of day,
With eyes like the first white frost, with the tips
Of her tired fingers and the droop of her lips
Blackened like the flowers she had carried away,
The flowers that were all one waxen white,
Leaf, stem and cup, but could not last the night.





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