Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.

'I could rest if you would not moan
Hour after hour; I have no power
To shut my ears where I lie alone.

'I could rest if you would not cry;
But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping-- 50
Watching, weeping so bitterly.'--

'Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.
Oh night of sorrow!--oh black to-morrow!
Is it thus that you keep your word?

'O you who used so to shelter me
Warm from the least wind--why, now the east wind
Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.

'O my husband of flesh and blood,
For whom my mother I left, and brother,
And all I had, accounting it good, 60

'What do you do there, underground,
In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.
What do you do there?--what have you found?'--

'What I do there I must not tell:
But I have plenty: kind wife, content ye:
It is well with us--it is well.

'Tender hand hath made our nest;
Our fear is ended, our hope is blended
With present pleasure, and we have rest.'--

'Oh, but Robin, I'm fain to come, 70
If your present days are so pleasant;
For my days are so wearisome.

'Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake:
Why should I tease you, who cannot please you
Any more with the pains I take?'

MEMORY

I

I nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
Alone and nothing said.

I shut the door to face the naked truth,
I stood alone--I faced the truth alone,
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth
Till first and last were shown.

I took the perfect balances and weighed;
No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise; 10
Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said,
But silent made my choice.

None know the choice I made; I make it still.
None know the choice I made and broke my heart,
Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will
Once, chosen for once my part.

I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold,
Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live.
My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old,
Grows old in which I grieve. 20

II

I have a room whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.

While winter comes and goes--oh tedious comer!--
And while its nip-wind blows;