I wish I owned my own little house,
with a few rooms, a cat and a mouse.
Free to hang upon my my walls
framed canvases, mirrors, clothes racks,
Of every fresh and regal petal,
none dared to rest within her rosy hand,
for fear that she, the fairest in the land,
shame their glory and their loveliness.
If someone calls you a nobody,
don't let it break your spirit,
if you're there in the forest,
and a tall tree falls
We working in the commerce of Beauty,
forge and find our way to set up our shop,
find ground to gird our loins, pursue our duty,
and work long passed the hours our fingers drop.
I shuttered out forthcoming cold and worry,
to draw barren trees in penurious verse,
straining, and my weakening heart aching,
to speak well of Winter and not to curse
Among dead leaves and scattered branches
the broken doe lies panting in the breeze,
long forsaking its struggle to rise and run,
quietly awaits nature's final decrees.