 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
289
[II
She sat under the naked bough]
She sat under the naked bough
In an autumn moon's sharp shade,
Her two hands clasped about her knee,
And not a move she made.
On crisp, dead leaves I walked to her
And said, “Thou art the Morrow's Norn,
And “Verily” she answered me,
Lifting her eyes forlorn.
Then with a slow and solemn sign
I said “Be mine.”
In an autumn moon's sharp shade,
Her two hands clasped about her knee,
And not a move she made.
On crisp, dead leaves I walked to her
And said, “Thou art the Morrow's Norn,
And “Verily” she answered me,
Lifting her eyes forlorn.
Then with a slow and solemn sign
I said “Be mine.”
She shook her head, but her rimey hair
Spread not upon the wind.
And it froze me so to see her there,
Till my own chilled heart grew kind;
I touched her shoulder hard as stone,
I pressed my hot lips to her eye,
And wrapt my cloak about her, soft
With a heart-warm sigh,
Saying again with many a sign
“Be ever mine.”
Spread not upon the wind.
And it froze me so to see her there,
Till my own chilled heart grew kind;
I touched her shoulder hard as stone,
I pressed my hot lips to her eye,
And wrapt my cloak about her, soft
With a heart-warm sigh,
Saying again with many a sign
“Be ever mine.”
She looked as when the spark goes out
In ashes that all are dead.
I left her, over the crisp dead leaves
And quicklier too I sped,
For I heard as out of a fold of wind
While the white moon stood above the line
'Mid shadows moved like creeping coils
Of a poisoned ivy vine,
I heard ...
In ashes that all are dead.
I left her, over the crisp dead leaves
And quicklier too I sped,
290
While the white moon stood above the line
'Mid shadows moved like creeping coils
Of a poisoned ivy vine,
I heard ...
[1895–96]
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |