GRIEF

My heart is pain, My spirit dearth; Tears are the rain Upon the earth: And all the over-clouded sky Is not more darkened than am I.

A while ago I watched the snow, And laughed to see Its witchery; Now that your face is turned away, Winter's white magic melts from day.

The casement wide, This wan Yuletide, I opened—heard One little bird A-piping on a crystalled bough, But he will pipe no longer now;

For when he saw The stricken awe Upon my face, He left his place And winged into the upper air— My visaged grief he could not bear.

A little child, By me beguiled But yesterday From busy play, This morning hurried from these eyes— He could not look where courage dies!

Under the sun Two selves are one: Sorrow and I! Oh, let me die, And never meet the month of May— Now that your face is turned away!