Grizzly women knew I, that
wizened went their way and why
never knew I: but winding, too,
through wiry shrewness then and knew
far more than I: none shy lest
be them shunned and hunned to
marriages and faulty carriage
beds: their heads a panting thing
by lamp light squelching sight
for all the loyalty in wifely right;
husbands dead that wed no more—
in store their life upon a wishing,
distant shore, in church to wile
away the viscous and the vile:
but ever mite through widow’s fright
and with her wrying smile:
she makes a fond amends.