Silk and Stones
But you scanned space seen but by you,
And I heard bells from chiming towers
You never saw . . . The doors swung to.
One I closed noiselessly . . . I hear
Your shrill cry yet, of nights, as we
Slammed one. All now are shut. We meet
By outside doors, where men may see:
Bright sun an us, the gala crowds,
The lovers we must make our chill
Way through; and home again we cross
Each one his separate, distant sill;
Where I hang silk and you set stones
Decked out in men and beasts half starved:
To hide closed doors . . . oh gaunt, gay things
That I have woven, you have carved.
__Margaret E. Haughawout.
Margaret E. Haughawout
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)