Explore "No Comfort" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O mad with mirth are the birds to-day / That over my head are winging. / There is nothing but glee in the roundelay / That I hear them singing, singing. / On wings of light, up, out of sight -- / I watch them airily flying. / What do they know of the world below, / And the hopes that are dying, dying?
The roses turn to the sun's warm sky, / Their sweet lips red and tender; / Oh! life to them is a dream of bliss, / Of love, and passion, and splendour. / What know they of the world to-day, / Of hearts that are silently breaking; / Of the human breast, and its great unrest, / And its pitiless aching, aching?