Lena, of all those who called me friend in name, And all who said they loved me more than life, Who did compete for favor with sweet strife, And watched me close thru long years without blame, How few at last could judge me by my aim, Or trust me when I cut with spirit knife Those false ties which but gave me name of wife, Yet which were making me exist—a lie! But you, dear sister woman, saw beyond Mere form and custom, and were unafraid, Hearing the pathos of the human cry, To stake your reputation as a maid, And find society in tree and sky, Denied by those you sought, like Christ, to aid.

—Miriam Daniell