Sara Teasdale

Snowfall

  "She can't be unhappy," you said,
   "The smiles are like stars in her eyes,
  And her laugh is thistledown
   Around her low replies."
  "Is she unhappy?" you said—
   But who has ever known
  Another's heartbreak—
   All he can know is his own;
  And she seems hushed to me,
   As hushed as though
  Her heart were a hunter's fire
   Smothered in snow.