A SLIGHTED WOMAN.
Reading edition
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BY THE AUTHOR OF “HOWARD PINCKNEY.”
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And Helen, not neglectful she
Of her proud sex’s dignity,
If, in the mazes of the dance,
Perchance she met her loved of all,
You’d think that nothing met her glance
Between her and the wall,
Her eye around is thrown so free,
Her laugh rings out so merrily:
How soon a slighted woman learns
To hide that pang, however deep,
Though in her tortured heart it burns,
Her bosom-thoughts seem all asleep:
You’d think that peace was resting there,
With her light shawl upon her breast,
That exercise and healthy air,
And day-dreams that be wondrous fair,
With hopes that sweetest fruitage bear
Had caused the slight unrest:
Know you that her young heart bleeds—
That in this laughing mood.
The Pelican of Passion feeds
Her ever hungry brood—
The two extremes approach we know
And therefore often laughs our woe;
Hers tells, that laugh which rung so loud,
Of withered hopes within their shroud.