GRIEF

My heart is pain,

My spirit dearth;

Tears are the rain

Upon the earth:

And all the over-clouded sky

Is not more darkened than am I.

A while ago

I watched the snow,

And laughed to see

Its witchery;

Now that your face is turned away,

Winter's white magic melts from day.

The casement wide,

This wan Yuletide,

I opened — heard

One little bird

A-piping on a crystalled bough,

But he will pipe no longer now;

For when he saw

The stricken awe

Upon my face,

He left his place

And winged into the upper air —

My visaged grief he could not bear.

A little child,

By me beguiled

But yesterday

From busy play,

This morning hurried from these eyes —

He could not look where courage dies!

Under the sun

Two selves are one:

Sorrow and I!

Oh, let me die,

And never meet the month of May —

Now that your face is turned away!