Ashes of me,
Whirl in the fires I may not name.
Lick, lovely flame!
Will the fagot not burn?
Throw on the tired broom
Stabled till in my room.
I have ridden wide and well.
Shall I say with whom?
(Stop the town bell!)
Listen now,
Listen if you dare:
I have lain with hope
Under the dreadful bough,
I have suckled Judas' rope
As it swung in the air —
Go find the silver pieces in the moon.
I hid them there.
-Leonora Speyer
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