• Desolate--Life is so dreary and desolate--
    Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle,
    Yet with itself every soul standeth single,
    Deep out of sympathy moaning its moan--
    Holding and having its brief exultation--
    Making its lonesome and low lamentation--
    Fighting its terrible conflicts alone.

    Alice Cary, Phoebe Cary, Mary Clemmer (1876). “The Poetical Works of Alice and Phoebe Cary”, p.180