Separated, by Anna Katherine Green


When in the solemn dusk you sit and think,
With face upturned to the enduring skies,
Of life and art, and those great griefs that sink
The soul in woe in spite of high emprise--
I know not how, but from the surging sea
Of these thy thoughts, some echo comes to me,
Moving my soul till from its billows rise
The answering strain for which thy spirit cries,
And then, or joy, or sorrow holds the throne
Of thy strong heart, thou art no more alone. - Anna Katherine Green

Anna Katherine Green