Tired

From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to search

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I am tired to-night, and something,
         The wind maybe, or the rain,
Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside,
         Has brought back the past and its pain.
And I feel, as I sit here thinking,
         That the hand of a dead old June
Has reached out hold of my heart's loose strings,
         And is drawing them up in tune.

I am tired to-night, and I miss you,
         And long for you, love, through tears;
And it seems but to-day that I saw you go—
         You, who have been gone for years.
And I seem to be newly lonely—
         I, who am so much alone;
And the strings of my heart are well in tune,
         But they have not the same old tone.

I am tired; and that old sorrow
         Sweeps down the bed of my soul,
As a turbulent river might sudden'y break
         way from a dam's control.
It beareth a wreck on its bosom,
         A wreck with a snow-white sail;
And the hand on my heart strings thrums away,
         But they only respond with a wail.

from Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1883)

Add your comment
ImmortalPoetry welcomes all comments. If you do not want to be anonymous, register or log in. It is free.