Sara Teasdale: Thoughts


When I am all alone  Envy me most, Then my thoughts flutter round me  In a glimmering host;
Some dressed in silver,  Some dressed in white, Each like a taper  Blossoming light;
Most of them merry,  Some of them grave, Each of them lithe  As willows that wave;
Some bearing violets,  Some bearing bay, One with a burning rose  Hidden away —
When I am all alone  Envy me then, For I have better friends  Than women and men.