Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

SILKEN SORROW.

I ride while others trudge, Th'e costliest silks I wear, Bright jewels shiue on this breast of mine. But a starving heart is there: A heart grown cold and dead. Though the red blood dyes my cheek. Now, alas! for pride, that could dare to hide What I longed to hear him speak. My kerchief dropped that day: His eyes, that flamed to mine Bike stars, went down in a niglit-black frown At the coronet's broidered sign. The daughter of an Earl; But blood is blood, and beats— Through bluest veins from ancient strains At the dream of a world of sweets. I would have swept his floors, Darned socks—a household drudge; But he never spoke. So here, alone, A silken sorrow that dares not moan, I ride*—while the happy trudge. —Ada Bartrick Baker, in '‘Chambers's."

This article text was automatically generated and may include errors. View the full page to see article in its original form.
Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZMAIL19030429.2.84.1

Bibliographic details

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1626, 29 April 1903, Page 24

Word Count
138

SILKEN SORROW. New Zealand Mail, Issue 1626, 29 April 1903, Page 24

SILKEN SORROW. New Zealand Mail, Issue 1626, 29 April 1903, Page 24