Collected Poems (Robinson)/Another Dark Lady
For other versions of this work, see Another Dark Lady.
ANOTHER DARK LADY
Think not, because I wonder where you fled,That I would lift a pin to see you there;You may, for me, be prowling anywhere,So long as you show not your little head: No dark and evil story of the deadWould leave you less pernicious or less fair—Not even Lilith, with her famous hair;And Lilith was the devil, I have read.
I cannot hate you, for I loved you then.The woods were golden then. There was a roadThrough beeches; and I said their smooth feet showedLike yours. Truth must have heard me from afar,For I shall never have to learn againThat yours are cloven as no beech's are.