The palest note described
is the softest light despised,
early in the morning dawn
when dreams and days are intertwined,
leaping high like the lightest fawn,
in a world for men, like God, resigned
till our eyes the dew-light finds.

Proudest artist laid in bed,
her captors know not the changes she led,
winter-nighttime-flooding bug,
if Mother Seamstress, Mother Fate,
fading lonely flower slug
long-lost years from Springtime mate
Proud artist failing, death came late.

Lain with the brave, the young, and the spry,
the grasp of life set aside to die,
Springtime girls dance over her grave,
long-held life in dreams alone,
Touching, tugging, to life-love save,
Soft mouths seeking to draw tiny moans
Music long-lost, sensual whispers, stone.