Her thoughts, like a mountain
Stood lonely and lofty
Her eyes like a mirror, and her hair like a shawl
That is worn by a mourner, who steals away softly
From those who would have him mourn nothing at all

Townes van Zandt got away with it, and not for the first time, but it requires a keen sense not only of words, but of their evocations, so that the imagery, the extended analogies, and the words themselves -- three different sets of weavings cross connected -- do not tear or explode or cause dissonance among them.

A