Poems (Tree)/Old Woman Forever Sitting
OLD woman forever sittingAlone in the large hotel under the fans,Infinitely alone where around you spinSo many lives like painted tops,Smearing the void a moment with their hues,Giddily catching at balance as they pause.What crime was yours, old woman,What sin against the EarthThat she should give you nowA cap of dust and furrows on your cheeks,And at the endA hole dug in the mould?Is death the promise of Fate's last rebound,Revenge of Time that waits within the clockAnd laughs awry at life,For a kiss, for a dream, for a child that you bore,For a fresh rose pinned to your bosom?The owl is in your spirit,Blinking through the oldest tree of wisdom—And now your fingers are weavingThe cold pale invisible blossoms of deathInto a waxen wreath,And TimeSits down beside you knitting with quick handsGrey counterpanes to cover up a grave!
1918