1108

This softens the lay-low for
What it commends, the oil on the paper
Means Saturday's placing
Your name on its tent! A maid
Of the savings has waited for tapers
And played down her necessary
Longing to stay. She feels the sockets
Protesting a name, and
When she compares them they
Tell on their stone. "Oh Caring
Come forward and pick up your hem,
The darkest waters hold the strangest fish,
Oh Caring come forward, don't drag
Your train, the morning is up
Before you again."