157

date: 1920-04-08

names-on-the-page: Miss Borggraefe

transcription: April 8, 1920 - Page 4

Of sunlight. I may not pin my heart
To them. When I would commune
With Thee, Lord, my words fall
From me ass a worn mantle and I
Stand before Thee naked.

Following this Patience said:

"I would set me o' a fancy whit. Yea, a colorful puttin' o' a
whimsey [whimsy]." She proceeded to paint for Miss Borggraefe and
present to her this beautiful word picture:

-My Canvas-

Behold, beneath a canopy of turquoise
Fringed of purple stars with beards
Of green, in a scentful morning
When the palms lap langorously,
Letting their sheen vie with that
Of the purple pool in its shroud
Of green; the purple pool with lips
Of silver, pale lips pressing
At the brown breast of Earth.

Neath a veil of rush and sweet grass
Intertwining, thou dost bend, beloved,
And thy palms are rosed of the coming
Sun's tint and thy lips are pale
And thine eyes deep as pits
With midnight filled, reflecting stars
And thy breast is as the petal
Of an old rose, seared of heat
And thy limbs gleam as sunset reflected
Within the purple pool shuttling in light
And shadow, dancing as a marsh-light.
And thou art singing and thy song drips
As perfume from the lips of death,
A searing lotus, wallowing upon
The purple pool. Beneath the turquoise
Canopy art thou bending and I
In adoration kneel upon a footcloth
Of jade and crystal crying out
In exultation, for in an instant,
Have I become possessed of thee
Through the witchery of word.

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