Caroling Dusk/The Mask

by Clarissa Scott Delany

For works with similar titles, see The Mask.

THE MASK

So detached and cool she isNo motion e’er betraysThe secret life within her soul,The anguish of her days.

She seems to look upon the worldWith cold ironic eyes,To spurn emotion’s fevered sway,To scoff at tears and sighs.

But once a woman with a childPassed by her on the street,And once she heard from casual lipsA man’s name, bitter-sweet.

Such baffled yearning in her eyes,Such pain upon her face!I turned aside until the maskWas slipped once more in place.