SHE CHARGED ME

She charged me with having said this and that

To another woman long years before,

In the very parlour where we sat -

Sat on a night when the endless pour

Of rain on the roof and the road below

Bent the spring of the spirit more and more . . .

- So charged she me; and the Cupid's bow

Of her mouth was hard, and her eyes, and her face,

And her white forefinger lifted slow.

Had she done it gently, or shown a trace

That not too curiously would she view

A folly passed ere her reign had place,

A kiss might have ended it. But I knew

From the fall of each word, and the pause between,

That the curtain would drop upon us two

Ere long, in our play of slave and queen.

-o0o-

A POEM WILL BE ADDED TO THE COLLECTION EVERY DAY

-o=0=o-