The Broken Wing/Destiny

​Destiny

It chanced on the noon of an April dayA dragon-fly passed in its sunward playAnd furled his flight for a passing hourTo drain the life of a passion-flower. . . .Who cares if a ruined blossom die,O bright blue wandering dragon-fly?
Love came, with his ivory flute,His pleading eye, and his wingèd foot."I am weary," he murmured; "O let me restIn the sheltering joy of your fragrant breast."At dawn he fled and he left no token. . . .Who cares if a woman's heart be broken?
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