Old Woman

She is beautiful, as dry brown weeds are beautiful-

Hiding no terrible presentiments in her wise laughter,

Singing no songs of future shadows,

Fondling no jewels of the past.

She is an old woman with the world inside her;

And there is no wonder in the wind

That moves her white hair,

No question in the light that rests

On her truthful brow,

As she sits beside the road

Which she will not look back upon,

Knowing it is the same road that lies ahead.