O Lady of the Dazzling Flowers

O, lady of the dazzling flowers,
 * And the frock so white and fine,

How hopeless is thy prettiness,
 * And that cool heart of thine!

Thou hast not been to the rude field
 * Where men and women war;

Thou hast not found what a woman's mouth
 * And a man's full heart are for.

Thy speech is all of a thin calm,
 * Of sleep and slow sunshine;

Oh, hopeless is thy happiness,
 * And that pale heart of thine.

Through the love-feud and the love-thirst
 * Thou hast not fought and smiled;

Thou hast not heard the strings that speak
 * In the crying of a child.

Thou hast not been where tears lie hot,
 * And words can only run,

Thou hast not cried to the bare night,
 * Nor prayed for the white sun.