Poem by Elinor Wylie

* * *

Now let no charitable hope 
Confuse my mind with images 
Of eagle and of antelope: 
I am by nature none of these. 

I was, being human, born alone; 
I am, being woman, hard beset; 
I live by squeezing from a stone 
What little nourishment I get. 

In masks outrageous and austere 
The years go by in single file; 
But none has merited my fear, 
And none has quite escaped my smile.

1. The Pekingese
2. In Our Content, before the Autumn Came
3. Upon Your Heart, Which Is.the Heart of All
4. Absent Thee from Felicity Awhile
5. The Broken Man

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