A Woman’s Wish.
I sigh not for the poet’s wreath,1
The victor’s meed of song,2
I would not on the world’s cold breath3
My name be borne along.4
True woman is my heart within—5
All earthly things above ;6
I would my name a home should win7
In the hearts of those I love.8
I would not, when in chancel old.9
At last I lie at rest,10
That they should carve the marble cold11
For me in scroll and crest ;12
But rather that my name should be13
A holy thing, enshrined14
Within the deep, deep memory15
Of the loved ones left behind.16