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.
Lesbia Harford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-look-across-at-moira-gives-me-pleasure/
