Page:Poems Thaxter.djvu/63

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SORROW,
Upon my lips she laid her touch divine,
And merry speech and careless laughter died;
She fixed her melancholy eyes on mine,
And would not be denied.

I saw the west-wind loose his cloudlets white
In flocks, careering through the April sky,
I could not sing though joy was at its height,
For she stood silent by.

I watched the lovely evening fade away;
A mist was lightly drawn across the stars;
She broke my quiet dream, I heard her say,
"Behold your prison bars!

"Earth's gladness shall not satisfy your soul,
This beauty of the world in which you live,
The crowning grace that sanctifies the whole,
That, I alone can give."