THE GATHERING
Engendered spirits unrepressed
no stitches sewn of discontent,
no worldly sorrows troubled her.
A lass of gentle mind.
As flickering candles lit the room
her female form came into view,
her lineaments a pallid tone.
Her beauty early seen.
And joining in the gathering
with gurgling riles of idle chat
that died like water in the sand.
The evening lingered on.
Her presence made in harmony,
but as the cotton leaves the reel,
the gathering left at darkest hour.
The candle flames died out.