Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ah, Love, have pity! -- I am but a child; / I ask but light and laughter, and the tears / Darken the sunlight of my fairest years.
By love made desolate, by love beguiled, / I waste the Spring. Love's harvest wains are piled / With poppies and gold grain -- I glean but fears / Of empty hands, grim hunger, and the jeers / Of happy wives whose loves are reconciled.