|
|
Time Does Not Bring Relief
Time does not bring relief: you all have lied
Who told me time would
ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain:
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows
melt from ev'ry mountain side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must
remain
Heaped on my heart and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, so with his
memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
where never fell his foot or shone his face.
I say
"There is no mem'ry of him here,"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
Edna St. Vincent Millay.
|
|
|