Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/No More, Dear Heart
NO MORE, DEAR HEART
NO more, dear heart—no more I moan
The loss of happiness, your gift alone,
For quiet thoughts I keep,
And in the lengthening, grief-subduing years,
Have lost the trick and sweet distress of tears.
I smile again—again, ah me! I sleep,
And half believe my heart grown cold,
Till other happy lovers I behold.