Ellen Hanging Clothes By Lizette Woodworth Reese

Ellen Hanging Clothes

By Lizette Woodworth Reese

The maid is out in the clear April light

Our store of linen hanging up to dry;

On clump of box, on the small grass there lie

Bits of thin lace, and broidery blossom-white.

And something makes tall Ellen — gesture, look —

Or else but that most ancient, simple thing,

Hanging the clothes upon a day in spring,

A Greek girl cut out of some old lovely book.

The wet white flaps; a tune just come in mind,

The sound brims the still house. Our flags are out,

Blue by the box, blue by the kitchen stair;

Betwixt the two she trips across the wind,

Her warm hair blown all cloudy-wise about,

Slim as the flags, and every whit as fair.