I thought—O, am I one in sorrow?
Or is the world more quick to hide
Their pain with raiment that they borrow
From pleasure in the house of pride?
O joy of mine, O longed-for stranger,
How I would greet you if you came:
In the world’s joys I’ve been a ranger,
In my world sorrow is their name.
A GIRL’S THOUGHTS
Dim apprehension of a trust