SPIRIT OF SADNESS

She loved the Autumn, I the Spring,

Sad all the songs she loved to sing;

And in her face was strangely set

Some great inherited regret.

Some look in all things made her sigh,

Yea! sad to her the morning sky:

‘ So sad! so sad its beauty seems’ —

I hear her say it still in dreams.

But when the day grew grey and old,

And rising stars shone strange and cold,

Then only in her face I saw

A mystic glee, a joyous awe.

Spirit of Sadness, in the spheres

Is there an end of mortal tears?

Or is there still in those great eyes

That look of lonely hills and skies?