Prolocutor

O for one of the stars to know me, To say “That is she” as I say “It is there.” O for my hills to show me If they care. But when I speak to them nothing hears me. Even the bird on the near bough fears me. The fire on my hearth does not know that it cheers me. ... Heart that waits by the fire, do you guess All you must voice in your tenderness?