Sara Teasdale, comp. (1884–1933).
The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women. 1917. | | | | The Man | | By Helen Hay Whitney |
| | | THE FLAME is spent, I can no more | |
| Hold the tall candle by your door; | |
| Too often have I watched to see | |
| Your lagging steps come home to me. | |
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| The Tyrian traders taught me this: | 5 |
| They came perfumed with ambergris, | |
| With amethystine robes, and hair | |
| Curled by the kisses of salt air. | |
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| They mocked me for my weary hands | |
| Holding your light as love demands; | 10 |
| They sang the lure of poppied sleep, | |
| Their lips were warm, their eyes were deep. | |
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| The flame is spent—your pale, weak face | |
| Must seek another resting place; | |
| Win me and hold me now who can— | 15 |
| The Tyrian trader was a man. | | | | |
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