To Look Across At Moira Gives Me Pleasure: Poem by Lesbia Harford

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.

Analysis of this poem