Poem by Edith Mirick

Mary of Bethany

Mary of Bethany
Dusk in her hair,
Dew in her eye,
Will never wear
(Woo her, win her
If you can)
Bridal trappings
For mortal man.
She sits in the house
That Martha keeps;
She treads the floors
That Martha sweeps;
She dreams at the windows
Martha scours,
Sits there dreaming
Hours ... hours...
And when sunset
Reddens the hill,
Mary of Bethany
Sits so still,
Sits there staring
Still ... so still...
Mary of Bethany,
What do you see
In a red sun shining
On a hill?

1. Tragedy
2. Deirdre
3. Closed Doors
4. Night Moths
5. Of a Stout Lady

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