THE SCARLET THREAD

By Helen Hay Whitney

The sun rose dimly thro’ the pallid rain,

Dear Heart — and have we strength to face the day?

The times and life alike are old and grey,

All worn with long monotonies of pain.

Lo — we are working out the curse of Cain,

Who never felt the fire of passion's sway.

Ah — show us crimson in some tragic way

That we may live!— Fate laughed in her disdain.

A thread of scarlet clashed upon mine eyes

Hung for a moment and was swept behind,

And blankly I beheld the hopeless skies

For day by contrast now is grimmest night —

Remembering light as do the newly blind

I pray for death to hide the bitter sight.