There is a crown upon her brow that seems To every one his own. Also her womb Is heavy with to-morrow, and the doom Of high desires, fond hopes, and hidden schemes. Friend that destroys or angel that redeems Or man that struggles -- there is none to whom She can deny her glory and her gloom, Her iron labors and her golden dreams. Now in her robe of light, she smiles upon The world with such a promise as proclaims The Maid of Seven Stars unbosoming God's mercy to the needful . . . and anon, Salome, daughter of a thousand shames, Dancing in all her jewels before the king. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OCTAVES: 20 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |