FOR ALL THE GRIEF

For all the grief I have given with words

May now a few clear flowers blow,

In the dust, and the heat, and the silence of birds,

Where the lonely go.

For the thing unsaid that heart asked of me

Be a dark, cool water calling — calling

To the footsore, benighted, solitary,

When the shadows are falling.

O, be beauty for all my blindness,

A moon in the air where the weary wend,

And dews burdened with loving-kindness

In the dark of the end.