The Unassuageable

I sometimes hear among the snow-clad trees

The lone wind chanting solemn symphonies.

I sometimes smell, while yet the woods are bare,

The breath of unborn blossoms in the air.

I am at times aware of gentle sighs

There where the creek, ice-fettered, dreaming lies.

I sometimes witness when the air is still

Unearthly splendors on the white-robed hill.

I sometimes read in flashing stars at night

Mysterious promises of future light.

But what can make a spirit's anguish less,

Or ease a heart's eternal loneliness?