Elinor Wylie


I shall lie hidden in a hut
      In the middle of an alder wood
With the back door blind and bolted shut,
      And the front door locked for good.

I shall lie folded like a saint.
      Lapped in a scented linen sheet,
On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,
      Narrow and cold and neat.

The midnight will be glassy black
      Behind the panes, with wind about
To set his mouth against a crack
      And blow the candle out.

Elinor Wylie.