Menken, Adah Isaacs
Still I trim my white bosom with crimson roses; for
none shall see the thorns.
I bind my aching brow with a jeweled crown, that none
shall see the iron one beneath
My silver-sandaled feet keep impatient time to the music,
because I cannot be calm.
I laugh at earth's passion-fever of Love; yet I know
that God is near to the soul on the hill, and hears the
ceaseless ebb and flow of a hopeless love, through all my
But if I can cheat my heart with the old comfort, that
love can be forgotten, is it not better?
After all, living is but to play a part!
The poorest worm would be a jewel-headed snake if