Little sad soul, which ne'er can come to mine,
So great in loneliness of grey despair,
There is not one whose spirit may entwine
With thee—the world looks on without a sign;
Go—hide thy face within thy tossing hair,
Thyself veil close with smiles, for none will care,
Little sad soul.
[EARTH'S TEARS— AND MAN'S]
These slanting lines of hoary rain
Are as my grizzled hair;