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Show I "THE HEART KNOWETH." I 8ometlmes my little woe Is lulled to rest, , f Its clamor shamed by some old poet's page Vl Tumult of hurrying hpof, and battle rage, , And dying knight, and trampled warrior crest. V Stern faces, old heroic souls unblest. ft Eye me with scorn, as they my grief would gage, ,'' , A mere child, schooled to weep upon the stage, . ' .cafcL Tricked for a part of woe and somber drest. lir iv "Lo, who art thou," they ask, "that thou shouldtt fret vfpi I To find, forsooth, one single heart undone? i The page thou turncit there Is purple wet With blood that gushed from Caesar overthrown! 1 Lo, who art thou to prate of sorrow?" Yet I: This little woe It Is my own, my own! I Charlotte Wilson, In McClure's. |