Three Things

`O cruel Death, give three things back,' Sang a bone upon the shore; `A child found all a child can lack, Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast': A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind. `Three dear things that women know,' Sang a bhone upon the shore; `A man if I but held him so When my body was alive Found all the pleasure that life gave': A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind. `The third thing that I think of yet,' Sang a bone upon the shore, `Is that morning when I met Face to face my rightful man And did after stretch and yawn': A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind.