Ballad Of Love's Grief

By John Grosvenor Wilson

A maiden sits with idle ball and skein,
The clock's long pendulum swings to and fro,
The blazoned light of day grows dim with rain,
With rain that turns to sleet, and sleet to snow;
But still she sits and watches, singing low,
Her voice as clear as birds' when dawn appears,
Dearest, why break your vows and leave me so?
The smiles of Love are fewer than the tears.

A mother kneels with tortured heart and brain,
She hears her baby's breath come hard and slow,
And, bending, clasps the wasted face again,
The little lips make piteous dumb-show
And all is over -- save the useless woe,
The mother's plaint that some sad listener hears, --
Ah, little life, flown fast that I may know
The smiles of Love are fewer than the tears.

An old dame looketh thro' the window-pane
To where the village churchyard sleeps below;
Alone, she croons a half-forgotten strain
That, as in dreams, recalls the long-ago;
A dreary song, that makes the salt drops flow,
That rouses memory, dead to hopes or fears,
Ah, life thro' which the bitter breezes blow,
The smiles of Love are fewer than the tears.

Envoy

Day springs from night, from mold the roses grow,
From hearts of fire are formed the tranquil spheres,
Therefore put trust in recompense, although
The smiles of Love are fewer than the tears.