"Crushed before the Moith [sic]"
Waif of the Summer night
All soft in velvet dust
Frail devotee of Light
So bent on idle guest.
Fluttering in helpless flight
A hint of Tropic heat -
Faint in the morning light
Thy silly life complete
The [above: Oh] man of pride and boast.
This is thy stronger Host.
Thou'rt crushed before the Moith -
[by Susan Dickinson]
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