A book of women's verse - Unknown

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night’s decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear

Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;

A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,

And offers for short life, eternal liberty.

He comes with Western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,