All to herself a woman never sings
A happy song. Oh no! but it is so
As when the thrush has closed down his wings
Within the wood, and hears his hidden woe
From his own bill fill aisles of leaves, and go
About the wood and come to him again.
Life's Priestess
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
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Poem topics: happy, never, song, woman, hidden, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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