TEA O' HERBS

O I have brought in now

Bergamot,

A packet o' brown senna

And an iron pot;

In my scarlet gown

I make all hot.

And other men and girls

Write like me

Setting herbs a-plenty

In their poetry

(Bergamot for hair-oil,

Bergamot for tea!)

And they may do ill now

Or they may do well,

(Little should I care now

What they have to sell—)

But what bergamot and rue are

None of them can tell.

[!--IMG--]

All above my bitter tea

I have set a lid

(As my bitter heart

By its red gown hid)

They write of bergamot

Because I did....

(From its padded hangers

They've snatched my red gown,

Men as well as girls

And gone down town,

Flaunting my vocabulary,

Every verb and noun!)

And the grackle moans

High above the pot,

He is sick with herbs ...

And am I not,

Who have brought in

Bergamot?

[!-- H2 anchor --]

John V. A. Weaver

(With a strong note of infant brutality.)