She was alone when she wrote a suicide letter
Love had ruined her life things wouldn’t get any better
In her sleeping gown frozen in a corner
She was crying her eyes full of tears ...
LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
... Read complete poem