The Old Maid

written by


« Reload image

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.

© Sara Teasdale