To A White Silk DressAway from the cobwebby corner Where it hung. And it lay like a hurt white bird On my bed with the pale silk coverlet___ And I cried. What memories shake from the folds of a forgotten dress! What pictures from a grown woman's girl-dress! And the years between are nothing . . . Until a voice calls. Tenderly I close the door to my heart And hide it farther away. Far, far away, in the attic's dimness___with my dolls___ And all dead dreams. __Sue Moody. |
Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 86
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)