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.