Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.
This poem is in the public domain.
Guardian of the Treasure of Solomon
And Keeper of the Prophet’s Armour
A vapour that
The wind dispels and but
As dust before the wind am I
Not these my hands
And yet I think there was
A woman like me once had hands
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees