Poems (Mansfield)/Sanary
SANARY
Her little hot room looked over the bayThrough a stiff palisade of glinting palms,And there she would lie in the heat of the day,Her dark head resting upon her arms,So quiet, so still, she did not seemTo think, to feel, or even to dream.
The shimmering, blinding web of seaHung from the sky, and the spider sunWith busy frightening crueltyCrawled over the sky and spun and spun.She could see it still when she shut her eyes,And the little boats caught in the web like flies.
Down below at this idle hourNobody walked in the dusty streetA scent of dying mimosa flowerLay on the air, but sweet—too sweet. 1916.