The Dark Girl’s Rhyme

WHO was there had seen us

         Wouldn’t bid him run?

Heavy lay between us

    All our sires had done.

There he was, a-springing,

    Of a pious race—

Setting hags a-swinging,

     In a market-place;

Sowing turnips over

     Where the poppies lay;

Looking past the clover,

      Adding up the hay;

Shouting through the Spring song,

      Clumping down the sod;

Toadying, in sing-song

      To a crabbèd god.

There I was, that came of

      Folk of mud and flame—

I that had my name of

      Them without a name.

Up and down a mountain

      Streeled my silly stock;

Passing by a fountain,

      Wringing at a rock;

Devil-gotten sinners,

      Throwing back their heads;

Fiddling for their dinners,

      Kissing for their beds.

Not a one had seen us

      Wouldn’t help him flee.

Angry ran between us

      Blood of him and me.

How shall I be mating

      Who have looked above—

Living for a hating,

      Dying of a love?