101. Mary McNeely

Passer by,

To love is to find your own soul

Through the soul of the beloved one.

When the beloved one withdraws itself from your soul

Then you have lost your soul.

It is written: «I have a friend,

But my sorrow has no friend.»

Hence my long years of solitude at the home of my father,

Trying to get myself back,

And to turn my sorrow into a supremer self.

But there was my father with his sorrows,

Sitting under the cedar tree,

A picture that sank into my heart at last

Bringing infinite repose.

Oh, ye souls who have made life

Fragrant and white as tube roses

From earth’s dark soil,

Eternal peace!

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