The Loneliness Of Sorrow

By Helen Hunt Jackson

Friends crowd around and take it by the hand,
Intruding gently on its loneliness,
Striving with word of love and sweet caress
To draw it into light and air. Like band
Of brothers, all men gather close, and stand
About it, making half its grief their own,
Leaving it never silent nor alone.
But through all crowds of strangers and of friends,
Among all voices of good-will and cheer,
Walks Sorrow, silently, and does not hear.
Like hermit whom mere loneliness defends
Like one born deaf, to whose still ear sound sends
No word of message; and like one born dumb,
From whose sealed lips complaint can never come.
Majestic in its patience, and more sweet
Than all things else that can of souls have birth,
Bearing the one redemption of this earth
Which God's eternities fulfil, complete,
Down to its grave, with steadfast, tireless feet
It goes uncomforted, serene, alone,
And leaves not even name on any stone.