Brilliant woman born in London in 1861. She committed suicide at the age of 27. Tragic life and an exceptional talent. Here is a little poem of hers that struck me enough to add it to my list of Favorite Poems. I think you will certainly relate.
At a Dinner Party
With fruit and flowers the board is deckt,
The wine and laughter flow;
I’ll not complain–could one expect
So dull a world to know?
You look across the fruit and flowers,
My glance your glances find.
It is our secret, only ours,
Since all the world is blind.