One came the way that I came,
And wore my last year's gown,
The other, as a bird her nest,
Builded our hearts among.
She did not sing as we did,
It was a different tune,
Herself to her a music–
As Bumble-bee of June.
Today is far from childhood,
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter,
Which shortened all the miles.
And still her hum the years among
Deceives the Butterfly,
Still in her eye the Violets lie
Mouldered this many May.
I spilt the dew but took the morn,
I chose this single Star
From out the wide night's numbers,
Sue–forevermore!
–Emilie.
This chapter has been put on-line as part of the
BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the
Celebration of Women Writers.
Initial text entry and proof-reading of this chapter were the work of volunteer
Steven van Leeuwen.
