MAD

Could I but hear you laugh across the street,

Though I, or mine, shared nothing in your glee,

Could I taste that one drop of bitter sweet,

‘ Twere more than life to me.

If I might see you coming through the door,

Though with averted face and smileless eye,

Were I allowed that little boon, no more,

Then I were glad to die.

But oh, my God! this living day on day,

Stripped of the only joy your starved heart had,

Shut in a prison world and forced to stay —

Why that way souls go mad!

To-day I heard a woman say the earth,

All blossom garlanded, was fair to see.

I laughed with such intensity of mirth,

The woman shrank from me.

Fair? Why, I see the blackness of the tomb

Where'er I turn, and grave mould on each brow;

And grinning faces peer out of the gloom —

Good God! I am mad now.