Ruth

Whither thou goest, I will go;
and where thou lodgest, I will lodge:
thy people shall be my people,
and thy God my God.
—Ruth i. 16.


All the city of my people
rose up before one

could know the other;

six measures of barely
to raise up the name

of the dead.

And she went
and came

and gleaned
the fields-

made bread
from grains
of honey.

At the feet
of the reaper

she slept

in a cradle
of thorn.