IV. I USED TO WRITE

I used to write so many songs of love —

I wrote them carefully, I did not know

That love was more than moonlight from above,

And pretty words set in an even row,

I held my pencil calmly in my hand,

And sang of arms and lips and tender eyes;

I wrote of love — who did not understand —

And hoped that folk would think me very wise!

I used to write so many songs... To-day

My hands are folded, and I cannot sing,

I sit, instead, and watch the sunlight stray

Across my desk. And I am wondering

If God, who lights a million stars each night,

Laughed at the groping words I tried to write!