Skip to content
1876–1944

XXXII

Helen Hay Whitney

Music has opened her hands, Through fingers her jewels are falling, Fingers so delicate slender, Pale as the ghost of a flower.

Jewels of crimson, the life Ebbing from hearts that are broken, Roses and wine and red sunsets, Flames of undying desire.

Jewels of azure, the sea Dreaming of stars, and the morning Dancing with life, then the silence Blue of mysterious caves.

Jewels of green, and the grass Lifts up its hands to the summer, Hiding insidious serpents, Fair as the sweets that are sin.

Jewels more bright than the sun Music lets fall from her fingers. We who have stood in the shadow — How may we die for her sake?

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
XXXII · Helen Hay Whitney · Poetry Cove