And like Communists, as mad, as disloyal,
My fierce emotions roam out of their lair;
They hate King Reason for being royal;
They would fire his castle, and burn him there.
Oh, Love! they would clasp you and crush you and kill you,
In the insurrection of uncontrol.
Across the miles, does this wild war thrill you
That is raging in my soul?




THE COMMON LOT.

It is a common fate--a woman's lot--
To waste on one the riches of her soul,
Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot
Repay the interest, and much less the whole.

As I look up into your eyes and wait
For some response to my fond gaze and touch,
It seems to me there is no sadder fate
Than to be doomed to loving overmuch.

Are you not kind? Ah, yes, so very kind--
So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true.
Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind,
Know that I am not loved as I love you.