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'
Doing Nothing
written byRoderic Quinn
© Roderic Quinn