Once a great sorrow assailed me
And I went and picked huckleberries.
Thud, with little thuds they struck the bottom of the pail.
I remember the day, a day of brazen sunshine.
The shameless sky had put off every shred of mist,
Naked it arched, and mockingly,
For my beauty was not hers, and she had been naked and shameless.
But huckleberry bushes crept soothingly over the pasture,
Hiding all, and partly hiding sun-warmed rocks
That in their turn wore lichens, lichens for hiding.
* * * * *
Edith Miniter was a writer who lived 100 years ago. The above poem was published in 1923. A collection of her work can be found in the publication Dead Houses and Other Works.
Upon her passing, H.P. Lovecraft commented: "It is difficult to realise that Mrs. Miniter is no longer a living presence; for the sharp insight, subtle wit, rich scholarship, and vivid literary force so fresh in one's memory are things savouring of the eternal and the indestructible. Of her charm and kindliness many will write reminiscently and at length. Of her genius, skill, courage, and determination, her work and career eloquently speak."