A WOMAN'S PRIDE

By Helen Hay Whitney

I will not look for him — I will not hear

My heart's loud beating, as I strain to see

Across the rain forlorn and hopelessly,

Nor starting, think‘ tis he that draws so near.

I will forget how tenderly and dear

He might in coming hold his arms to me,

For I will prove what woman's pride can be

When faint love lingers in the darkness drear.

I will not — Ah, but should he come to-night

I think my life might break thro’ very bliss,

This little will should so be torn apart

That all my soul might fail in golden light

And let me die — So do I long for this.

Ah, love, thine eyes!— Nay, love — Thy heart, thy heart!