“I have outlasted all desire,

My dreams and I have grown apart;

My grief alone is left entire,

The gleamings of an empty heart.

The storms of ruthless dispensation

Have struck my flowery garland numb,

I live in lonely desolation

And wonder when my end will come.

Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted

By tardy winter's whistling chill,

A single leaf which has outlasted

Its season will be trembling still.”