blogdog

petak, 07.08.2009.

maid

From the first it had been like a
Ballad. It had the beat inevitable. It had the blood.
A wildness cut up, and tied in little bunches,
Like the four-line stanzas of the ballads she had never quite
understood--the ballads they had set her to, in school.

Herself: the milk-white maid, the "maid mild"
Of the ballad. Pursued
By the Dark Villain. Rescued by the Fine Prince.
The Happiness-Ever-After.
That was worth anything.
It was good to be a "maid mild."
That made the breath go fast.

- 21:38 - Komentari (0) - Isprintaj - #

Ovaj blog je ustupljen pod Creative Commons licencom Imenovanje-Dijeli pod istim uvjetima.

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blogdog

petak, 07.08.2009.

maid

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