| James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922. |
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| The Wife-Woman |
| | | Anne Spencer |
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| MAKER-OF-SEVENS in the scheme of things | |
| From earth to star; | |
| Thy cycle holds whatever is fate, and | |
| Over the border the bar. | |
| Though rank and fierce the mariner | 5 |
| Sailing the seven seas, | |
| He prays, as he holds his glass to his eyes, | |
| Coaxing the Pleiades. | |
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| I cannot love them; and I feel your glad | |
| Chiding from the grave, | 10 |
| That my all was only worth at all, what | |
| Joy to you it gave. | |
| These seven links the Law compelled | |
| For the human chain— | |
| I cannot love them; and you, oh, | 15 |
| Seven-fold months in Flanders slain! | |
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| A jungle there, a cave here, bred six | |
| And a million years, | |
| Sure and strong, mate for mate, such | |
| Love as culture fears; | 20 |
| I gave you clear the oil and wine; | |
| You saved me your hob and hearth— | |
| See how even life may be ere the | |
| Sickle comes and leaves a swath. | |
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| But I can wait the seven of moons, | 25 |
| Or years I spare, | |
| Hoarding the heart’s plenty, nor spend | |
| A drop, nor share— | |
| So long but outlives a smile and | |
| A silken gown; | 30 |
| Then gaily I reach up from my shroud, | |
| And you, glory-clad, reach down. | |
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