Thus the following poem, like all her poems, was but the expression of herself:
Aspiration.
The violet dreams forever of the sky,
Until at last she wakens wondrous fair,
With heaven’s own azure in her dewy eye,
And heaven’s own fragrance in her earthly air.
The lily folds close in her heart the beams
That the pure stars reach to her deeps below,
Till o’er the waves her answering brightness gleams—
A star hath flowered within her breast of snow.