Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ But, oh! my love shrinks from my side and trembles at my kiss.
Would you find horror at my touch, or poison at my body's breath,
If but my flesh grew fair again, and my soul darkened with its death? ”

“ He loved the beautiful, the sun—and God has robbed him of that right,
Housed him with men that are not men, with horrors for his sight
And I, my love! have robbed from you the right of love, and hope, and trust. ”