The Solitary
Upon the mossed rock by the spring She sits, forgetful of her pail, Lost in remote remembering Of that which may no more avail. Her thin, pale hair is dimly dressed Above a brow lined deep with care, The color of a leaf long pressed, A faded leaf that once was fair. You may not know her from the stone So still she sits who does not stir, Thinking of this one thing alone - The love that never came to her.
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"Upon the mossed rock by the spring..."
"The Solitary" is a quintessential example of Madison Julius Cawein's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...