Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
‘This man loved me‘—then rise and trip away.

Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

A Legend of Gotham
O, TERRIBLY proud was Miss MacBride,
The very personification of pride,
As she minced along in fashion’s tide,
Adown Broadway—on the proper side—
    When the golden sun was setting;
There was pride in the head she carried so high...

Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it,

Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,


Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,

Not to partake thy passion, my humility.


Thou can'st not boast,...

Poet:

So proud she was to die

It made us all ashamed

That what we cherished, so unknown

To her desire seemed —

So satisfied to go

Where none of us should be

Immediately — that Anguish stooped

Almost...

Poet: