Explore "The Grief" by Theodosia Pickrering Garrison on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The heart of me's an empty thing, that never stirs at all / For Moon-shine or Spring-time, or a far bird's call. / I only know 'tis living by a grief that shakes it so, -- / Like an East wind in Autumn, when the old nests blow.
Grey Eyes and Black Hair, 'tis never you I blame. / 'Tis long years and easy years since last I spoke your name. / And I'm long past the knife-thrust I got at wake or fair. / Or looking past the lighted door and fancying you there.
Grey Eyes and Black Hair -- the grief is never this; / I've long forgot the soft arms -- the first, wild kiss. / But, Oh, girl that tore my youth, -- 'tis this I have to bear, -- / "If you were kneeling at my feet I'd neither stay nor care."