Poems (Cromwell)/The Circle
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THE CIRCLE
My grief comes back after an interval
Of years. How strong it seems! Is my defeat
Assured and final still? Shall I repeat
My failure? Am I ever sorrow's thrall?
Sometimes old griefs can loom again so tall
We are afraid of kindness, and the sweet
New truth of love we cannot bear to meet;—
Our past would seem to bold us after all.
We know men go in circles when they're lost:
My grief must prove that I have gone astray.
I cross again the very path I crossed
Before! I stand abreast of the old pain:
I am not changed. I am as yesterday,
And feel the weight of my old sorrow's chain.
Of years. How strong it seems! Is my defeat
Assured and final still? Shall I repeat
My failure? Am I ever sorrow's thrall?
Sometimes old griefs can loom again so tall
We are afraid of kindness, and the sweet
New truth of love we cannot bear to meet;—
Our past would seem to bold us after all.
We know men go in circles when they're lost:
My grief must prove that I have gone astray.
I cross again the very path I crossed
Before! I stand abreast of the old pain:
I am not changed. I am as yesterday,
And feel the weight of my old sorrow's chain.