Mountains, mountains in the morning,
Great beasts backed with stainless snow,
Rocks which even the hawks have not visited,
Vast blue shadows climbing up their gullies,
Magnificence, magnificence of blue shadows.
Child unknown who shall be mine hereafter,
Your heart, too, shall leap at sight of the mountains,
The peaks and their shadows in the morning
—Uncaring for me or for any man—
Even as my heart has leapt, uncaring.
A PEASANT WOMAN
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees,
Till a man should claim the comfort of your body
And your industry and presence for his own.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees,
Till the child growing hidden in your body
Should become a living creature in the light.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees,
Till your child who had ventured to the city
Should return to the shelter of his home.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees
—Your unreturning son was in the city—
Till Death should come along the cobbled street.
I saw you sit waiting with your sewing on your knees.