FRA LIPPO LIPPI.
55
The palm of her, the little lily thing
That spoke the good word for me in the nick,
Like the Prior’s niece . . . Saint Lucy, I would say.
And so all's saved for me, and for the church
A pretty picture gained. Go, six months hence!
Your hand, sir, and good bye: no lights, no lights!
The street's hushed, and I know my own way back—
Don’t fear me! There’s the grey beginning. Zooks!
That spoke the good word for me in the nick,
Like the Prior’s niece . . . Saint Lucy, I would say.
And so all's saved for me, and for the church
A pretty picture gained. Go, six months hence!
Your hand, sir, and good bye: no lights, no lights!
The street's hushed, and I know my own way back—
Don’t fear me! There’s the grey beginning. Zooks!
