The Galled Jade

This brave front I mostly wear
To shroud what nights have done to days,
This braggart's cry (that screens despair)
That I am author of my ways;

My glittering words to mask defeat
That I am cheek-by-jowl with God
And manage him with methods neat
Go by with most among whom I plod.

But when I meet you, silent one,
Your unequivocating eye,
Your patience veiling something close
To God's pity, I defy,

Of my brave clothing I'm bereft.
My great word's intended tones
Stutter . . . my soul stands bare . . . I am left
Small, chill, vague, alone.

^__Margaret E. Haughawout.

Sheep's Clothing
Margaret E. Haughawout
Page 17
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)