Of my own spirit let me be in sole though feeble mastery.

Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad; his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.

Oh to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests After its leaves are gone, Waiting no more for a rain at night Nor for the red at dawn.

For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.

There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.