The man who married Magdalene
Had not forgiven her.
God might pardon every sin ...
Love is no pardoner.
Her hands were hollow, pale, and blue,
Her mouth like watered wine.
He watched to see if she were true
And waited for a sign.
It was old harlotry, he guessed,
That drained her strength away,
So gladly for the dark she dressed,
So sadly for the day.
Their quarrels made her dull and weak
And soon a man might fit
A penny in the hollow cheek
And never notice it.
At last, as they exhausted slept,
Death granted the divorce,
And nakedly the woman leapt
Upon that narrow horse.
But when he woke and woke alone
He wept and would deny
The loose behavior of the bone
And the immodest thigh.
