Doing Nothing

WITH the sorrow on me Neighbours come and go — Think me vain and foolish Nursing up my woe. With the grief-blade in me Keen and chill as steel — Can I laugh like others, Feel the joy they feel? Since he died and left me Things don't matter much, Life, that danced and capered, Limps upon a crutch. Night and day I ponder, Drawing weary breath — Since to love we're moulded, Why should there be death? Night and day I'm asking Him Who dwells above — Since to death we're going, Why should there be love? When he kissed and left me, Oh, he looked so brave! — God be with him sleeping In his far-off grave! What are dress and jewels, What are meat and bread To a lonely woman Grieving for her dead? Wan I am with weeping, Tired of heart I sink — Doing nothing . . . only Trying not to think'