Page:Poems by Frances Fuller Victor.djvu/91

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No entertainment ever yet
Had half the exquisite completeness—
The gladness without one regret,
You gather from your darling's sweetness;
An angel sits beside the hearth
Where e'er an innocent child is found on earth.


TO MRS. ——

I have not found the meaning out

That lies in wrong, and pain and strife;

I know not why we grope through grief,

Tear-blind, to touch the higher life.

In my unconscious viens there runs,

Perchance, some old ancestral taint;

In Eve I sinned. Poor Eve and I!

We each may utter one complaint—

One and the same—for knowledge came

Too late to save her paradise;

And I my paradise have lost

Forsooth because I am not wise.

O, vain traditions, small the aid

We women gather from your lore;

Why, when the world was lost, did death

Not come our children's birth before?

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