“Nelly Gray!”
The hundred dancers, heedless, went right on;
And only Berrien’s boarder, the gold woman
Who stood so close by Daniel—only that one
Kindled. Then she blazed, and Daniel, blushing,
Knew she had found his thought.
So I have lost her—
This was his thought—have lost her. Then my love
Must die, and no man know it. He was true,
That singer. It is not my life she carries—