ADELAIDE CRAPSEY
Among the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July.
- I read your heart in a book.
And your mouth of blue pansy—I know somewhere I have seen it rain-shattered.
And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her naked knees, and her head held there listening to the sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.
And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:
- Mother of God, I'm so little a thing,
- Let me sing longer,
- Only a little longer.
And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling new shapes on the beach sand.