THE web flew out and floated wide.
Poor lady! I was with her then.
She gathered up her piteous pride,
But she could never weave again.
The mirror cracked from side to side;
I saw its silver shadows go.
“The curse has come on me!” she cried.
Poor lady! I had told her so.
She was so proud: she would not hide.
She only laughed and tried to sing.
But singing, in her song she died.
She did not profit anything.
(Aline Murray Kilmer)
More Poetry from Aline Murray Kilmer:
Aline Murray Kilmer Poems based on Topics: Cry, Pride, Singing- Violin Song (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)
- The Night Cometh (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)
- If I Had Loved You More (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)
- The Touch Of Tears (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)
- Things (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)
- Song Against Children (Aline Murray Kilmer Poems)