That they might part forever,
She set a charm in the moonlight
That he should be her lover.
She pricked her finger with a pin
And with the blood she wrote
His name, and hers beneath it,
And hung it round her throat.
And so he came, and so they went
Down the dim streets together,
Into the quiet country lanes,
In apple-blossom weather.
There were wise glances in the town
Wise nods and shakes of head,
And O, so much to be inferred,
Though nothing much was said.
The season grew to falling leaves
Still was the moonlight warm,
She told him of the bit of life
That stirred beneath the charm.
Next day his regiment was called
With orders to depart,
The pin that pricked her finger
Was a dagger through his heart.
The second night the neighborhood
Was startled with a cry
A gray-haired woman rushing out
To hail a passer-by.
The doctor found her failing pulse,
Her mother found her note,
I found the charm in the moonlight
Still clinging to her throat.
__Elizabeth N. Barr.
The High Winds of Home
Elizabeth N. Barr
(Olathe: privately published. 1922)