Saturday, March 19, 2005

Elinor Wylie 1887 - 1928


I shall lie hidden in a hut
         In the middle of an alder wood,
With the back door blind and bolted shut,
         And the front door locked for good.

I shall lie folded like a saint,
         Lapped in a scented linen sheet,
On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,
         Narrow and cold and neat.

The midnight will be glassy black
         Behind the panes, with wind about
To set his mouth against the crack
         And blow the candle out.

from The Pocket Book of Verse

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