"Lady Weeping at the Crossroads" by W.H. Auden
Lady, weeping at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In twilight with his greyhounds, And the hawk upon his glove? Bribe the bird then on the branches, Bribe them to be dumb, Stare the hot sun out of heaven That the night may come. Starless are the nights of travel, Bleak the winter wind; Run with terror all before you And regret behind. Run until you hear the ocean’s ...