Sara Teasdale

Thoughts

  When I am all alone
   Envy me most,
  Then my thoughts flutter round me
   In a glimmering host;

  Some dressed in silver,
   Some dressed in white,
  Each like a taper
   Blossoming light;

  Most of them merry,
   Some of them grave,
  Each of them lithe
   As willows that wave;

  Some bearing violets,
   Some bearing bay,
  One with a burning rose
   Hidden away—

  When I am all alone
   Envy me then,
  For I have better friends
   Than women and men.