O Heart!
Sing thou the song of stars that gleam in murk,
Sing how the Moon is lone in the aethereal.
Sing how the day-star droops into the dark,
But sing thou not of pain I feel.
Sing thou the song of grass with dew bedight,
Sing how the nebules fly incorporeal.
Sing how the mounts and wealds are light,
But sing thou not of pain I feel.
Sing thou the song of winter eventide,
Sing how the trees stand placid, marmoreal.
Sing how the rime doth saturate the sight.
But sing thou not of pain I feel.
Sing heart, the song of old good time,
Sing how the dreams did seem so real.
Sing how they swayed my fancy mind,
But sing thou not of love I feel...
[11 Jun’10]