"Sad and consumed by envious desire,
A Cinderella sits beside the fire:
The hearth grows cold, the ashes fly about,
There is no sunshine in the air without.
"Oh strange that friendship should so cruel prove
As to inflict a pang on yearning Love:
Pale and half-blind she weeps the long hours thro',
Yet are they children of one mother too!
"Love decks herself and proudly lifts her head;
More and more glows her cheek's soft rosy red: