And mine shall still be mine.
I know the world holds joy and glee,
But not for me,—'t is not for me.
CHANGING TIME
The cloud looked in at the window,
And said to the day, "Be dark!"
And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane,
To stifle the song of the lark.
The wind sprang up in the tree tops
And shrieked with a voice of death,