"The Old Maid"

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