The Grief of Others

Once more I see the happy young

Broken by grief and pain;

The tears have made like earth’s red worms

Turned white by days of rain.

Once more I see the new-made wife

From her dead husband torn;

When down she sits and weeps, and laughs,

And rocks her babe unborn.

And when I see a hearse that takes

A coffin through the town,

Or pass the quiet house of death,

That has its blinds drawn down-

Such pity moves me for the dear

One left to mourn behind,

That I am glad my loves are dreams

Made purely of the mind:

That take expression for their grave,

When they have served their hour;

And I create a younger brood

To charm me with new power.