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.