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Sara Teasdale - The Old Maid
Work rating: Medium

I saw her in a Broadway car,
     The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
     And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light,
     And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes,
     Tho` love had never made them shine.

Her body was a thing grown thin,
     Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark,
     Unwarmed forever by love`s flame.

I felt my lover look at her
     And then turn suddenly to me –
His eyes were magic to defy
     The woman I shall never be.
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