● ● ●  with a lawsuit would report, “In her ordinary conversation she is witty, a bit satirical, but with a great deal of gentleness in her demeanor.”³⁴ Even in her ninetieth year, when her secretary, Calvin Frye, gave her an anthology of poetry for a present, one of the few passages she marked in it was the last stanza of Sir John Suckling’s “Why so pale and wan, fond lover?” in evident appreciation of its cavalier insouciance.³⁵

A poem of her own, undated but clearly written during her young womanhood, illustrates what may be called this daylight phase of her character and at the same time points beyond it:

Song

Laugh lady laugh
There is a joy in laughing
Tears were never made
To be in beauty’s keeping
Tears are of a stream
Where pleasures lie decaying
Smiles like rays of light
O’er sun[n]y waters playing 
       Laugh lady laugh

Love lady love
There is a joy in loving
But sigh not when you find
That man is fond of roving
He like the summer bee
Takes wings through beauty’s bowers
And knows not which to choose
Among so many flowers 
       Love lady love

Weep lady weep
There is a joy in weeping