Frances Shaw

From “Songs”

Gird thy warrior’s armor on,
And fare thou forth thyself alone.

EMPTY frame upon the wall;

Secret presence in the hall;

In the closets we abide

Of the whole green country side.

Savage chief, who sold his wife,

Priest, who took a martyr’s life.

Madman, raving of his gain;

Cruel pirate of the main;

Drunkard, fallen in her track;

Soldier, wounded in the back;

Scarlet letter, branded deep;

Just the tendency to sleep.

Empty frame upon the wall;

Secret presence in the hall;

In the closets we abide

Of the whole green country side.