The White Feather

I’ve watched with Death a dreadful year Nor flinched until you plucked apart A feather from the wings of Fear— Your innocence has stabbed my heart. I took your terrible trust to keep, Deep in my heart it flames and sears, And what I’ve sown I dare not reap For bitterness of blinding tears. I have not scattered starry seed On windy ridges of the skies, But I have ploughed my heart indeed And sown the secrets of your eyes. And now I cannot reap the grain Growing above that stony sod Because a shining plume lies plain Fallen from following wings of God.