Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

Florence kneels down to say her prayers
At night.
I wonder what she says and why she cares
To pray at night.
I think when she kneels down to pray
At night
The names that have been on her lips all day
Are there, at night.
She interferes with destinies
At night.
My loves are free to do the things they please
By day, or night.

1. You, whom the grave cannot bind
2. I can't feel the sunshine
3. He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
4. I have golden shoes
5. I love to see

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