I Took His Dreams

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I TOOK his dreams from him,
  Boy-dreams of gold and red,
I gave him sorrows dim,
  White grief, instead, . . .
And for a little space
Joy in my careless face.

I took his hope away,
  Light hope, a foolish thing,
I gave him silence gray,
  Death's comforting . . .
Was it my soul that sighed,
Dead on the day he died?

© Margaret Widdemer