THE SPINSTER

I feel the Love that moves the Earth,
That stirs the sea and blows the sand;
All of my days so sadly stand -
- - There is no ring upon my hand.

The shining intellect which woke
Enisled within its resting place,
Worth more than perfect form or face,
- - Has never known a man's embrace.

Why could they not look deeper than
The flawless brow, the satin skin;
Beyond the selfish lust for sin
- - To see the Light that burned within?

I knew the secrets of the stars
Within my melancholy mind;
But Beauty's smile I could not find -
- - My face was not of Fashion's kind.

My heart with hope once overflowed
With ardent passion, youthful zest;
Its flame was quenched by thoughtless jest -
- - It beat beneath a shapeless breast.

My eyes dreamed like the Heaven's deep
And saw the roses on the grass;
I felt the "Chosen" smile, and pass -
- - I only watched through walls of glass.

But lonely still, and ageing grey,
Like sickled wheels the years now roll:
When this life's curse has reaped its toll
- - Then shall I meet my kindred soul.