Little means were there around her to make farther, wider ranges,
Where her loving gentle spirit could try any stronger flight;
And she turned aside, half fearing that fresh thoughts were fickle
That she MUST stay as he left her on that farewell summer night.
Love should still be guide and leader, like a herald should have
Lighting up the long dark vistas, conquering all opposing fates;
But new claims, new thoughts, new duties found her heart a silent
And found Love, with folded pinions, like a jailer by the gates.