Which, winsome, whispered years of yearns to be,
Too telling things I trust not many's style,
Yet years and miles, another spirit's free.
Valeska's eyes emit intelligence,
Past perky, chaste, yet wafting wit and charm
An attitude transcending all pretense,
A soul that's full of luscious longing warm.
As Robert's "Lisabeth's" his Portuguese,
An epithet of love, sincere aside,
Her choice complexion left him loved and pleased,
His heart was hugged by Barrett's timeless tide.
We'll never meet, of that, alas! so sure...
Such souls survive and thus with tears endure.
"Truth never yet fell dead in the streets; it has such affinity with the soul of man,
the seed however broadcast will catch somewhere and produce its hundredfold."
THEODORE PARKER, from A DISCOURSE OF MATTERS PERTAINING TO RELIGION
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