We Wish For More In Life Rather

O Woman! Thou Wert Fashioned To Beguile: So Have All Sages Said, All Poets Sung.

And Old Affront Will Stir The Heart Through Years Of Rankling Pain.

I Have Lived To Thank God That All My Prayers Have Not Been Answered.

O Sleep, We Are Beholden To Thee, Sleep; Thou Bearest Angels To Us In The Night, Saints Out Of Heaven With Palms. Seen By Thy Light Sorrow Is Some Old Tale That Goeth Not Deep; Love Is A Pouting Child.

And The Guelder Rose In A Great Stillness Dropped, And Ever Dropped, Her Wealth About Her Feet.