To look across at Moira gives me pleasure.
She has a red tape measure.
Her dress is black and all the workroom's dreary,
And I am weary.
But that's like blood-like a thin blood stream trickling
Like a fire quickening.
It's Revolution. Ohé, I take pleasure
In Moira's red tape measure.
To Look Across At Moira Gives Me Pleasure
Lesbia Harford
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Poem topics: fire, black, dress, stream, red, pleasure, measure, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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