Page:The Pot of Earth.pdf/20

 Up at the corner, she gave her a blood-root flower With white petals and the scarlet ooze Where the stem was broken. She said, In my country The feet of spring are stained with the red blood, The women go into the hills with flowers Dark like blood, they have a song of one Dead and the spring blossoming from his blood— And he comes again, they say, when the spring comes. She gave the flower with soft fingers. She said, That is an old story,—it might not be true. But who knows where the roots drink: they go deep.