The Heart That Watches Alone
My hand has burned in the fire,
My two eyes have drowned in the invisible spring;
By what virtue, O Life,
Have you sent this heart—turned to ashes from the blaze of straw—
To wander alone and watch in silence?
I have never feared sorrow—
Fear broke long ago!
The thorn of happiness once pierced this heart;
In that very happiness I still live.
And yet I die each day,
Yet I live on—
Stricken by some nameless sorrow.

