Poem for Marjorie Sawyer
Song-redemptive woman; well might time’s unfading flora
flourish still and known in the opening April of your hands.
Then never turn your heart against itself;
for the heart alone avenges the wronged heart.
Where you are not, only the dreamer will remain;
searching for some hidden night.
Where you are, love’s every depth
is your own heart’s height.
When you are not, the impoverished dream
shall seek for those moon-bullion evening fells.
When you are, morning will find your
forbearant loveliness like a granted pardon,
season safe within the flourishing
forgiveness of spring.