Again we meet—a flashing glance,
And then, to scabbard, goes the lance,
While thoughts troop on in cavalcade
Adown the wide aisles time has made.
Your world is as big as you make it.
I know, for I used to abide
In the narrowest nest in a corner,
My wings pressing close to my side.
I WANT to die while you love me,
While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And who shall separate the dust
What later we shall be:
Whose keen discerning eye will scan
And solve the mystery?
Her life was dwarfed, and wed to blight,
Her very days were shades of night,
Her every dream was born entombed,
Her soul, a bud,—that never bloomed.