Found--as I rushed through the great world's mart,
    In a race for gold and a pleasure quest,
A passionate, throbbing human heart
    Suddenly found in my breast.

I had always laughed at the foolish word;
    I had said aloud in my boasting glee,
That never a heart in my bosom stirred,
    That my brain governed me.

I was proud with the sense of my might and power,
    'It is will, not heart that wins,' I said.
But I suddenly found one sad, strange hour
    That the strength of my will had fled.

For up in my breast there rose supreme
    A strong man's heart, and all on fire:
Drunk with the wine of a wild, sweet dream,
    And tortured with desire.

It is tossed with hope, and fear, and doubt,
    It is mad with the fever of love's unrest,
I wish to God I could pluck it out--
    This heart I found in my breast.

Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.

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