MOMENT OF PLEASURE
Do the lights of the street make a black shadow?Is it a thick darkness, Woman, so none may see in?Does never the bird in your heart brood to the flight?Long ago was it pierced into numbness?Woman! Woman!Let us come in to the comforting.Can never your head find a bosom place?Dull with the aching of ages,Can never your head find a soothing placeSave in the Potter's Field earth?Woman! Woman!
Long hence . . . . Long hence . . . .In the rose light of dawn,Out of the earth of the Potter's FieldGroweth a tree.Sweet! Sweet! A little bird trills in the tree.
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