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.