Does the heart grieve on, After its grief is gone Like a slow ship moving Across its own oblivion? Heart! Heart! Do you not know That I have conquered pain, Have parted from my woe? That my proud feet have found their path again, After the pathless heights—long after— And that my hands have learned to bless Their overflowing emptiness, My lips grown reconciled to laughter? O laggard of dead roads, O heart that will not heal nor break Nor yet forget! Tell me, whose tears are these That greet me as I wake? Why is my pillow wet? Red Rebel, is it you That lifted this wild dew Like banners from my arid dreams That roused this ember From exiled ashes, Calling me to remember? Speak, is it you that wept Upon my pillow while I slept? @3Does the heart then grieve on, After its grief is gone, A treasure-ship that journeys Across its own oblivion?@1 |