Clara Shanafelt

From “In Summer”

THE ELDER’S bridal in July,

Bright as a cloud!

A ripe blonde girl,

Billowing to the ground in foamy petticoats,

With breasts full-blown

Swelling her bodice.

But later

When the small black-ruddy berries

Tempt the birds to strip the stems,

And the leaves begin to yellow and fall off

While late summer’s still in its green,

Then you look lank and used-up,

Elder;

Your big bones stick out,

You’re the kind of woman

Wears bleak at forty.

I’ll take my constant pleasure

In a willow-tree that ripples silver

All the summer.

And when the winter comes in greasy rags

Like a half-naked beggar,

Lets out the plaited splendor

Of her bright and glancing hair.