This Day - A poem by Grace Strickler Dawson

This Day.

This day was like a woman. Sleepy still,
Some clinging mauve and silver garment drawn
Around her shoulders, on the window-sill
She leaned one dreaming moment in the dawn.

Then in a cheerful garb of white and blue
Flitted about her work through shining hours,
Small customary tasks, something to do
With nesting birds and faint white opening flowers.

Now pondering her loveliest array
Against the coming of her lover, Night,
One after one, like a fantastic play
She clothes herself in robes of flowing light.

Rose and vermilion, amethyst and cream,
Broidered and jeweled to a queen's desire,
Amber and jade, debating which will seem
Most beautiful, which will he most admire.

Weary at last she flings them all away,
Shakes back her hair, one wistful moment stands,
Then goes to meet him clad in quiet gray,
The first frail stars like daisies in her hands.

^__Grace Strickler Dawson

Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 42
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)