Reprise (For Criselda)

All faces carry their own masks

 

What face then did she put on
when as a child
her father bade adieu for nowhere town?
What will she put on now
as a young woman
when her father knocks softly at dawn?
Will she start all over again?
Or will she move on as before
the world going on its placid course

 

O the green, green heart be her metaphor!

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