Leonora Speyer (1872-


(I sing with myself)

Out of my sorrow
I'll build a stair,
And every to-morrow
Will climb to me there--
With ashes of yesterday
In its hair.
My fortune is made
Of a stab in the side,
My debts are paid
In pennies of pride--
Unminted couns
In a heart I hide,
The stones that I eat
Are ripe for my needs,
My cup is complete
With the dregs of deeds--
Clear are the notes
Of my broken reeds.
I carry my pack
Of aches and strings,
Light with the lack
Of all good things--
But not on my back,
Because of my wings!