Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/58

You laughed upon me, “Did you see her bow?
My boon is granted, he shall live, shall live!”
Before the Virgin low you bent your brow,
“Behold, sweet Mother, all my gold I give.”

“And this must die,”—I kissed each tangled lock,
Laid it in sorrow on the altar stone—
“That he may live”—your laughter came to mock
The evil hope that held my heart its own.

And then you left me smiling in your glee.
I stood before the Virgin eye to eye,
“What, jealous of her hair! ”I cried. But she
Stiff, painted, wooden, did not heed my cry.

But who would say the Virgin was not wise
To weigh the value of men's love with this
Gold heap of hair? For scarcely were my cries
Of anger over than your voice of bliss

Came backward to me, “He is whole again,
And walks toward me, hold me lest I fall,”
And so with lowered eyes of grief and pain,
With giving hands I offered him my all.

But this shorn lamb had no soft tempered wind
To bless her sacrifice and bid her live,
For sudden laughter, scorn, and jeers unkind
Were all the welcome that your love did give.

Stricken we stood a moment, facing him.
And the false woman leaning to his side.
With her stiff pointing finger, and her dim
Hard eyes upon us. Laughing now they cried:

“You once were very fair and sweet, Marie,
With all your wonder locks of gold and red.
Now brown, now amber: men went mad to see
The endless glory of your shining head.”