Ah, better were the house of love,
By blighting fire and tempest swept.
Ada Foster Murray
UNFULFILLED
I read the pain and pathos of your eyes,
The aftermath of anguish in your smile,
And yet I can but envy you the while!
Your heart has bled, an ardent sacrifice
To Love’s fulfillment. You have paid the price
Of keen, fierce living; nor can aught defile