Lady Weeping at the Crossroads

Lady, weeping at the crossroads,

Would you meet your

In the twilight with his greyhounds,

And the hawk on his glove?

Bribe the birds then on the branches,

Bribe them to be dumb,

Stare the hot sun out of

That the night may come.

Starless are the nights of travel,

Bleak the winter wind;

Run with terror all before

And regret behind.

Run until you hear the

Everlasting cry;

Deep though it may be and

You must drink it dry,

Wear out patience in the

Dungeons of the sea,

Searching through the stranded

For the golden key,

Push on to the world's end, pay

Dread guard with a kiss,

Cross the rotten bridge that

Over the abyss.

There stands the deserted

Ready to explore;

Enter, climb the marble staircase,

Open the locked door.

Cross the silent ballroom,

Doubt and danger past;

Blow the cobwebs from the

See yourself at last.

Put your hand behind the wainscot,

You have done your part;

Find the penknife there and plunge

Into your false heart.

April 1940