Has she a history, has she a home?
Was life ever bright to her, friends ever kind?
Why did she seek thus oblivion to find—
This blankness and Lethe for body and mind?
Did nobody love her, did nobody wait
In crazy anxiety as to her fate?
Had she no father, no husband, no brother,
Had she no dear, tender sister or mother,
To watch for her coming and wonder and wait,
Impatient and anxious, because she’s so late?