A short poem by an unknown woman poet

BEWARE


I closed my hands upon a moth
and when I drew my palms apart,
Instead of dusty, broken wings,
I found a bleeding, human heart.

I crushed my foot upon a worm
that had my garden for its goal,
but when I drew my foot aside
I found a dying human soul.

Dora Sigerson Shorter
The Golden Treasury. Pagrave, Francis T. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc. 1973. P 559

~*~

To qualify my headline: I've never heard of Dora Shorter- has anyone else?