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 | Studies in verse (1865) |  |
And now the widow, after many years,
At night-fall, worn and jaded, stood again
Among the labyrinths of humanity,
A stranger to the mighty city's ways.
And the low restless never-ceasing flow,
The radiation of a myriad threads
Of purpose, toiling round her, made her pause
And falter in her journey, with a dazed
Sense of her utter insignificance;
As if her individual agony
Were nothing in this chaos of the world.
At night-fall, worn and jaded, stood again
Among the labyrinths of humanity,
A stranger to the mighty city's ways.
And the low restless never-ceasing flow,
The radiation of a myriad threads
Of purpose, toiling round her, made her pause
And falter in her journey, with a dazed
Sense of her utter insignificance;
As if her individual agony
Were nothing in this chaos of the world.
| Studies in verse (1865) | |