Mary Austin

HOW is it with my heart

Since I can love you?

Flawed in the casting,

So that your spirit,

When I strike it with nobleness,

Rings no tone truly.

Yet, at that flattened note,

The soul of every sense,

Shouldering each on each,

Runs and looks out of the windows,

While deep in the house of life

Age-long, unimagined instincts

Bay at the voice of the master.