My grief lies heavily upon my heart— I cannot shift the burden of this load, Nor ease the dull, pervasive, gnawing pain That steals my sleep and troubles all my days. This were not so had you not with free hands Snatched glowing moments from fast fleeting time, And in the woof and warp of commonplace Spun shining patterns that can never fade. Had all been of an even monotone I had not known the beauty of these stars, Nor felt the exquisiteness of sorrow's dole That I so jealously shall henceforth hoard— Yet this drear pain I bear I cannot rue, Since it was dealt, with eager hands, by you |