Shawled

She wraps herself within herself

Closely, as in a shawl,

And then she hurries down the street;

And none of all

The people there who pass her by-

Spending themselves as they go

With a drifting scarf, a brilliant coat-

Can tell what lies below

The heavy folds of her reserve:

Not one will know, though she

But covers a thinning garment lest

Their eyes should see;

Or whether she hides a flaming gown

Of fabric subtly spun,

Knowing those colors cannot fade

That never feel the sun.