Classic Poem

A yellow dot on her forehead,
While she lies asleep in the sun,
A black dot over her beating heart,
And my charm is done, is done.
Tonight she will slip to my tipi
With wondering, half-breathed sigh.
She will part the painted curtains,
I shall watch her with half-shut eye.
The sacred charm will bind her,
Yet she will never know why.
And then if she pleases me not
I can wash my charm away
And laugh when I see her hiding
From my mocking eyes all day.