Her little hot room looked over the bay <br />Through a stiff palisade of glinting palms, <br />And there she would lie in the heat of the day, <br />Her dark head resting upon her arms, <br />So quiet, so still, she did not seem <br />To think, to feel, or even to dream. <br /> <br />The shimmering, blinding web of sea <br />Hung from the sky, and the spider sun <br />With busy frightening cruelty <br />Crawled over the sky and spun and spun. <br />She could see it still when she shut her eyes, <br />And the little boats caught in the web like flies. <br /> <br />Down below at this idle hour <br />Nobody walked in the dust street; <br />A scent of a dying mimosa flower <br />Lay on the air, but sweet--too sweet.<br /><br />Katherine Mansfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sanary/
