This is my heart:
Cliffs,
And sea gulls beating against them piteously,
Moons,
Hungry and demented,
Flowers drying up before drought.
This is my heart:
The dusky presence of trees
Hung with night,
Stars falling……………
Who shall encompass it and bear chains to it?
Who shall measure its girth
Or give it a name?
Not you — girl with the pleading eyes —
Nor you — man with fire fingers……………
For where is its limit,
And where its boundaries?
From: Aber, Loureine, We, the Musk Chasers, 1921, Ralph Fletcher Seymour: Chicago, p. 39.
(https://archive.org/stream/wemuskchasers00aber#page/38/mode/2up)
Date: 1921
By: Loureine Aber (1893-1930)
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