Marietta Holley

“ If God would only let us change our natures at will;
If I had no heart I could better act my part;
Deserted, unloved wife, yet loving him, loving him still!
I think that a modern saint is better without a heart.
When I die—what other hope do I have—he may come at last;
Perhaps he may even lay his hand on my brow
When ’tis cold, and say: “It is long since past,
But she was dear to me in the long ago.” ”

“ Would waken my heart from the silent sleep of years.
But loveless, lonely dreamer, who will not be comforted;
Of what avail is it to murmur, to moan, or to cry;
The peacefulest rest, I think, is the sleep of the dead,
When the day is past, and the darkness is over the sky. ”

“ I had no room in my heart for hate, but only for woe.
For I could not hate her, so sweet was her angel face;
She was only an innocent child, and he won her love;
And I knew too well—too well, what it was to place
His smile above all things, below, above.
But like me, she had her day; I saw her dove-like eyes
Turn into the look of a hunted doe at bay;
When a haughty beauty with her dark, bold gaze,
Won his fickle heart from the English lass away.
And she holds him well; I fancy no “dream” will come,
No “holy revelation” he fears to wrong,
Bidding him take a fourth wife to his home ”