(no subject)

[prosody]

- that she,
Who had so little sunshine for herself
Should have so much for others. How it was
That she could make, and feel for making it,
So much joy for them, and all along
Be covering, like a scar, and while she smiled,
That hungering incompleteness and regret -
That passionate ache for something of her own,
For something of herself - she never knew.
She knew she could seem to make them all
Believe there was no other part of her
Than her persistent happiness; but the why
And how she did not know.

- Edwin Arlington Robinson