Out of her box she leans and listens; Oh, is it with pleasure or with despair That her thin cheek pales and her dim eye glistens, While that fresh young voice sings the grand old air? She is back again in the Past’s bright splendor-- When life seemed worth living, and love a truth, Ere Time had told her she must surrender Her double dower of fame and youth. It is she herself who stands there singing To that sea of faces that shines and stirs; And the cheers on cheers that go up ringing And rousing the echoes--are hers--all hers. Just for one moment the sweet delusion Quickens her pulses and blurs her sight, And wakes within her that wild confusion Of joy that is anguish and fierce delight. Then the curtain goes down and the lights are gleaming Brightly o’er circle and box and stall. She starts like a sleeper who wakes from dreaming-- Her past lies under a funeral pall. Her day is dead and her star descended Never to rise or shine again; Her reign is over--her Queenship ended-- A new name is sounded and sung by men. All the glitter and glow and splendor, All the glory of that lost day, With the friends that seemed true, and the love that seemed tender, Why, what is it all but a dead bouquet? She rises to go. Has the night turned colder? The new Queen answers to call and shout; And the old Queen looks back over her shoulder, Then all unnoticed she passes out. FAITH. I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea Come drifting home with broken masts and sails; I shall believe the Hand which never fails, From seeming evil worketh good for me; And though I weep because those sails are battered, Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered, “I trust in thee.” I will not doubt, though all my prayers return Unanswered from the still, white Realm above; I shall believe it is an all-wise Love Which has refused those things for which I yearn; And though at times I cannot keep from grieving, Yet the pure ardor of my fixed believing Undimmed shall burn. I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about a hive; I shall believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain; And though I groan and tremble with my crosses, I yet shall see, through my severest losses, The greater gain. I will not doubt; well anchored in the faith, Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale, So strong its courage that it will not fail To breast the mighty unknown sea of Death. Oh, may I cry when body parts with spirit, “I do not doubt,” so listening worlds may hear it, With my last breath.