To A Pessimist
Life like a cruel mistress woos
The passionate heart of man, you say,
Only in mockery to refuse
His love, at last, and turn away.
To me she seems a queen that knows
How great is love--but ah, how rare!--
And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
Gives him the rose from out her hair.
The passionate heart of man, you say,
Only in mockery to refuse
His love, at last, and turn away.
To me she seems a queen that knows
How great is love--but ah, how rare!--
And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
Gives him the rose from out her hair.
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