To My Mother + 

Some souls there are which never live their life; + 

Some suns there are which never pierce their cloud; + 

Some hearts there are which cup their perfume in, + 

And yield no incense to the outer air. + 

Cloud-shrouded, flower-cupped heart: such is thine own: + 

So dost thou live with all thy brightness hid; + 

So dost thou dwell with all thy perfume close; + 

Rich in thy treasured wealth, aye, rich indeed⁠— + 

And they are wrong who say thou “dost not feel.” + 

But I⁠—I need blue air and opened bloom; + 

To keep my music means that it must die; + 

And when the thrill, the joy, the love of life is gone, + 

I, too, am dead⁠—a corpse, though not entombed. + 

Let me live then⁠—but a while⁠—the gloom soon comes, + 

The flower closes and the petals shut; + 

Through them the perfume slips out, like a soul⁠— + 

The long, still sleep of death⁠—and then the Grave. + 