Godless, but not gone.
Thoughtless and thankless but not wrong,
and down in Mississippi
I gave my song away,
Down below the line I drew
to keep myself at bay.
Somehow, less than two years later,
southern sawdust saw us blind
in a clearing in a sparser place
than ever I intended.
What a woman! What a night!
This thing that I defended
is godless, but not gone;
intelligent and radiant and strong,
enveloping the wooded skyline
with joyous shadows long
and lengthening.