Dora Sigerson Shorter Poems

When I was a merry young fellow
I loved the red juice of the grape.
I would drink till I grew gay and mellow,
From Morpheus I could not escape.
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Dark is the tomb, yet holdeth but one fear
In all its chill and silent majesty,
Lest I should lie divorced from all held dear
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O to be a woman! to be left to pique and pine,
When the winds are out and calling to this vagrant heart of mine.
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At Pompeii I heard a woman laugh,
And turned to find the reason of her mirth;
Saw but the silent figure of a girl
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'It will be all the same in a thousand years.

And in a thousand years
It will be all the same,
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Droop all the flowers in my garden,
All their fair heads hang low;
For rose, their fairest companion,
Never again will they know.
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Where the sword has opened the way the man will follow

'Look! they came, the triumphant army!
Over yon hill see their weapons peeping!'
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Up in the cave of the wind,
All bent and crabbed with their years,
In endless chatter they sit,
Old Distaff, Spindle, and Shears.
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When I shall rise, and full of many fears,
Set forth upon my last long journey, lone,
And leave behind the circling earth to go
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This Consul Casement—he who heard the cry
Of stricken people—and who in his fight
To lift the torture load from broken men,
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