Her mind lives in a quiet room
A narrow room, and tall
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
And mottoes on the wall

There all the things are waxen neat
And set in decorous lines
And there are posies, round and sweet
And little, straightened vines

Her mind lives tidily, apart
From cold and noise and pain
And bolts the door against her heart
Out wailing in the rain