Words for the Chisel (collection)/A Story

by Genevieve Taggard

For works with similar titles, see Story.

A Story

Love came a little too late,
Bringing hunger and danger and hate;

With these she made up her bed;
With these devoured sparse bread;

These, the gifts of her fate,
Splendor and sorrow,—then late
Wave on wave, instead
Came hunger and danger and hate.

There was love, but frail with the weight
Of hunger and danger and hate.
—These I endured, she said.

These she endure. They are great.
She is greater than these. She is dead.