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.
...
I'm folding up my little dreams
Within my heart tonight,
And praying I may soon forget
The torture of their sight.
...
The phantom happiness I sought
O'er every crag and moor;
I paused at every postern gate,
And knocked at every door;
...
A woman with a burning flame
Deep covered through the years
With ashes. Ah! she hid it deep,
And smothered it with tears.
...
The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn,
As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on,
Afar o'er life's turrets and vales does it roam
In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home.
...
Fierce is the conflict—the battle of eyes,
Sure and unerring, the wordless replies,
Challenges flash from their ambushing caves—
Men, by their glances, are masters or slaves.
...
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
...