SILK FLOWERS (for Bernadette)

faint for lack of food

Cold! cold! My thread is small, it

gleamed like odorous

fire She ceased her spin-

ning heavy and uniform

sore with the frost cheek

with her prey She Bear

is gone O Stranger, strain! be

She beheld and laugh’d

She heart-reviving

arrow-plumes were iced The song

I thank thee, thank thee

Arose, commixt with

flush bright thread The youth sate low

and sweet the silkworm’s

Sister! Sister! hear

A lock of his raven hair

And yet her hair ask’d

grey. his languid limbs

took the quiver from his neck

The woman answer’d

wondrously thin ob-

served thy strength By magic hands

binding in the chain