My love was light the old wives said —
Light was my love and better dead!
My love was of such little worth
Stones were but wasted on her tomb;
She left no kettle by the hearth,
No crying child nor silent loom.
My love drank wine the old wives said
And danced her empty days away;
She baked no bread, she spun no thread,
She shaped no vessels out of clay ….
But how should old wives understand
Eternally my heart must grieve,
The cup remembering in her hand,
The dance her ghostly feet still weave …
My love was light the old wives said –
Light was my love and better dead!
Thomas Lanier Williams
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