Grief

Grief is like a child, Led with relentless hand By a strange nurse, whose face Seems never to have smiled, Whose onward gaze severe Slackens not, nor her pace, Nor that child's faltering fear Stoops she to understand. So strides the world, while grief Unwilling is borne on, With ever lingering mind, Through the strange days, alone. Oh, like a fluttering leaf On the ways of the strong wind, Or pebbles helpless thrown By night on a wild strand, Lost are the thoughts of grief, That none can understand!