WITH the sorrow on me
Neighbours come and go —
Think me vain and foolish
Nursing up my woe.
With the grief-blade in me
Keen and chill as steel —
Can I laugh like others,
Feel the joy they feel?
Since he died and left me
Things don't matter much,
Life, that danced and capered,
Limps upon a crutch.
Night and day I ponder,
Drawing weary breath —
Since to love we're moulded,
Why should there be death?
Night and day I'm asking
Him Who dwells above —
Since to death we're going,
Why should there be love?
When he kissed and left me,
Oh, he looked so brave! —
God be with him sleeping
In his far-off grave!
What are dress and jewels,
What are meat and bread
To a lonely woman
Grieving for her dead?
Wan I am with weeping,
Tired of heart I sink —
Doing nothing . . . only
Trying not to think'