Penance

My lover died a century ago,

Her dear heart stricken by my sland'rous breath,

Wherefore the Gods forbade that I should know            The peace of death.

Men pass my grave, and say, "'Twere well to sleep,

Like such an one, amid the uncaring dead!"How should they know the vigils that I keep,            The tears I shed?

Upon the grave,

I count with lifeless breath,

Each night, each year, the flowers that bloom and die,

Deeming the leaves, that fall to dreamless death,            More blest than I.'Twas just last year — I heard two lovers

So near,

I caught the tender words he said:

To-night the rain-drenched breezes sway the grass            Above his head.

That night full envious of his life was I,

That youth and love should stand at his behest;

To-night,

I envy him, that he should lie            At utter rest.