Seemed still, and always there. Masked maybe.
For who could tell what moved behind that steady smile,
That well-set jaw, those actions done correctly?
And when you saw at last what seemed like wrinkles
Only were dried tear-beds, and that the smile,
Too set, too held, too frozen, had broken at last
In baffling splinters and a cataract
That dashed your peace, and plundered
All that, till then, had seemed like harvest
And spun in whirlpools all that fragile web
You thought would hold, however fortune struck it,
And left you weeping, pleading, in its tumult
Why then you turned, and in your turning
Looked. And maybe saw. For O
She was not stone, nor ever is,
Nor ever will be, once you know
That dams are only made of stone;
It is their heart, the water that they hold
That makes them what they really are.
Stone maiden by Hilary Elfick | Sandalwood & Vanilla Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
