THE HEART OF GRIEF

You will not come again

Along the deep-banked lane

To where the field and fold so long have missed you;

You know no more the way

To where, so many a day

Before the world grew gray,

Your lover kissed you.

The wonders and delights

Of London days and nights

Hold fast a soul not made for pastoral pleasures;

The scent of mignonette

Brings to you no regret,

No withered flowers lie yet

Among your treasures.

And I, who long for you

Sad and glad seasons through,

Find my grief’ s heart in knowing grief will find you;

Some day you too will sigh,

And lay a dead flower by,

And weep to see joy lie

At last behind you.

What though the flower you hide

With London wire be tied?

What though the heart that broke your heart be rotten?

You too at last must miss

The smile, the word, the kiss,

And know how hard it is

To be forgotten.