To own yourself and only own yourself,
Is worse than serfdom that has earn’d a smile,
Though but from wrinkling cheeks of sham good-will.”
LV.
Then, through my gloom exploring for its cause,
His thought would light on Edith. He was right;
Perhaps less right, grew garrulous of Grace.
For deeming love’s return my only hope,
And, seeking this, resolved, as well, to find it,
My slightest flush could furnish him a glow