Found--as I rushed through the great world's mart,
In a race for gold and a pleasure quest,
A passionate, throbbing human heart
Suddenly found in my breast.
I had always laughed at the foolish word;
I had said aloud in my boasting glee,
That never a heart in my bosom stirred,
That my brain governed me.
I was proud with the sense of my might and power,
'It is will, not heart that wins,' I said.
But I suddenly found one sad, strange hour
That the strength of my will had fled.
For up in my breast there rose supreme
A strong man's heart, and all on fire:
Drunk with the wine of a wild, sweet dream,
And tortured with desire.
It is tossed with hope, and fear, and doubt,
It is mad with the fever of love's unrest,
I wish to God I could pluck it out--
This heart I found in my breast.
Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.
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