SIXsecretSIXLouverSIX

SIXsecretSIXLouverSIX

WilliamShakesonDaySIX
SixPenceSpent
This is actually a poem bye ElizibethBaringBrown
XLII
'My future louver will not copy fair my past six spent cents'—
I wrote that once when not a farthing found; not thinking of my side a thorny spot of ground
My ministering life-angel ewe was justified
The word by this appealing look upcast my face my nose disgraced
To the white throne of God, eye turned at last,
And there, instead, saw Jesus near the ewe , not unallied
To angels in our souls! Then I, long tired of ewes headaches By natural ills, received the comfort fast, and a pocket full of sixppences While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff
Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled. INdeed a full year past at mye faith house.
I seek no copy now of life's first half: we can not turn and enter womb of Mother drear
Leave here the pages with long musing curled up the ewe upon her divine divan,
And write me new my future's epigraph, with paper purchased with our new sixpences
New angel mine, the ewe unhoped for in the world! We rule with all the sixpence we can hurl at churl both men and women.