Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 1
XII — For Bill Mabbett
For Bill Mabbett
Dressed in green she came, and like
A tulip leaned her head against
The door and looked at me. Her hand
Lay cool as a stone against her dress;
And her sandled feet showed white
As a pair of doves on the grass.
She did not stir, but wanted me
To speak to her.
Her words were lilies
On a green stem the small wind shakes.