One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!
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the tenderness of an onlooker at the finding and rescue of the body of unfortunate lonely one who could not find hope.
desperation at apparent lack of concern from others and inability to hope or to move toward connection with compassionate humans
I've loved this poem since the first time I read it as a pre-teen...though didn't begin to understand it at the time. Now I see so much more...how women were seen, even through the kindest of eyes...sad in so many ways, yet it never fails to move me.
He himself had to have experienced her depths of despair to have penned her experience so accurately. His knowledge the size of Asia.