Explore "Le Soir" by Georgia Douglas Johnson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mute-lipped -- unquestioning grim-visaged Fate, / I cleave the shadows toward the Western Gate; / And yet -- my lagging heart still holds / Mute-arms outstretched / Unto earth's gleaming folds.
Who knows? perhaps Hope's blossoms spray / In lush profusion / O'er the edge of day!