St. Clare

Call on that saint And the candle that burns Keeping her safe Until her return Plaster and paint Holding the fire A poor woman's saint Holding all man's desire Bold little bird Fly away home Could I but ride herd On the wind and the foam All of the souls That curl by the fire They never know All man's desire Watercress clings To the banks of the stream In the first grip of spring When the snow melts to green Barefoot and cold And holding a lyre By the side of the road Holding all man's desire Call on the saint When the white candle burns Keeping her safe Until her return