Monday, May 24, 2004
"She can't be unhappy," you said,"The smiles are like stars in her eyes,
And her laugh is thistledown
Around her low replies."
"Is she unhappy?" you said --
But who has ever known
Another's heartbreak --
All he can know is his own;
And she seems hushed to me,
As hushed as though
Her heart were a hunter's fire
Smothered in snow.
Snowfall
Sarah Teasdale
Mina at 9:13 PM
