The Great War

from Late Songs, an electronic edition

The Little Old Woman

The Little Old Woman has found you at last,

The Little Old Woman who is born a Queen;

She stands and she rattles at the door long-fast:

Gladly it opes to her, and she steps in.

The Little Old Woman is the World's Rose.

With the milk and the honey she comes again.

Were you forgetting her for These or Those?

The Little Old Woman has the hearts of men.

Under her tatters she is fair and young:

Sweetness of sweetness is her honey mouth;

Men have died for her to save her wrong;

Love been spilt for her through the long drouth.

Were you forgetting her for These or Those?

Shall you forget her to the last heart-beat?

Dark Rose of Tenderness, and the One Rose

To turn Life bitter and to make Death sweet.