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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Nameless Pain
By Elizabeth Drew Barstow Stoddard (1823–1902)
 
I SHOULD be happy with my lot:
A wife and mother,—is it not
Enough for me to be content?
What other blessing could be sent?
 
A quiet house, and homely ways,        5
That make each day like other days;
I only see Time’s shadow now
Darken the hair on baby’s brow.
 
No world’s work ever comes to me,
No beggar brings his misery;        10
I have no power, no healing art,
With bruisèd soul or broken heart.
 
I read the poets of the age,—
’Tis lotus-eating in a cage;
I study art, but art is dead        15
To one who clamors to be fed
 
With milk from Nature’s rugged breast,
Who longs for Labor’s lusty rest.
O foolish wish! I still should pine
If any other lot were mine.        20
 
 
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