There were that took effect . . . and one that failed
No time to cause your harried tragic face
When I returned . . . But if I said that worst
One to you now . . . I might . . . But you would still
Be plucking out a blade of grass, hunting
For four-leaved clovers, slowly plaiting edge
Of handkerchief, white dreams in your dark eyes,
And I should know futility. You are
So slim I could unjoint your bones. And yet
You have escaped me! In what deep pool then
I cannot fathom have you found content?
__Margaret E. Haughawout.
Margaret E. Haughawout
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)