And its song shall be joyful—no more, never more.”
A blush was deepening through the folded leaves
Of that young, guileless heart, and far within
Upon the altar of her soul a flame
Like to an inspiration came; she felt
That she had learned to love as e’en the heart
Of woman seldom loves.
She was an orphan child, and sorrow’s storm
With bitter breath had swept her gentle soul;
But that was past—and fresh in purity