She made a little shadow-hidden grave,
The day Faith died;
Therein she laid it, heard the clod's sick fall,
And smiled aside -
"If less I ask," tear blind, she mocked, "I may
Be less denied"

She set a rose to blossom in her hair
The day Faith died -
"Now glad," she said, "and free at last, I go
And life is wide"
But through long nights she stared into the dark,
And knew she lied.


-Fannie Heaslip Lea