Beeny did not quiver, br Juliot grew not gray, br Thin Valency's river br Held its wonted way. br Bos seemed not to utter br Dimmest note of dirge, br Targan mouth a mutter br To its creamy surge. br br br Yet though these, unheeding, br Listless, passed the hour br Of her spirit's speeding, br She had, in her flower, br Sought and loved the places - br Much and often pined br For their lonely faces br When in towns confined.