My hard-won place, yet I could see
No book nor rose nor gem that looked
Like you, but that I craved to buy
And give. Sometimes I fell and bought.
The noise of coin I poured upon
The counter eased me somewhat . . . Shamed
I piled them out of sight . . . or wore
The gem . . . or read the book, consoled
I touched your things . . . and when I could
Endure no more___something must be
Of mine that you would touch, would smell
Of me to you, and though I knew
In blood and mind how it would be,
I spent my whole pay-check. And gave,
With awkward grace . . . for oh, I've seen
Your scorn that I do not restrain
My springs or harness them to what
Would give me power . . . And since, there's been
No light of face. All now is dark.
I have lost you wittingly and helplessly.
__Margaret E. Haughawout.
Margaret E. Haughawout
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)