I cannot think what they, unanswered, thought
When the night came again and shadows moved
As the moon through the ice-flower stared and roved,
And that unyielding Shadow came again. 
That Shadow came again unseen and caught
The children as they sat listening in vain,
Their starved hearts failing ere the Shadow removed. 
And when the new morn stepped from the same cold East
They lay unawakening in the barren light,
Their song and their imaginations bright,
Their pains and fears and all bewilderment ceased.... 
While the brief sun gave
New beauty to the death-flower of the frost,
And pigeons in the frore air swooped and tossed,
And glad eyes were more glad and grave less grave.

There is not pity enough in heaven or earth,
There is not love enough, if children die
Like famished birds—­oh, less mercifully. 
A great wrong’s done when such as these go forth
Into the starless dark, broken and bruised,
With mind and sweet affection all confused,
And horror closing round them as they go. 
There is not pity enough!

And I have made, children, these verses for you,
Lasting a little longer than your breath,
Because I have been haunted with your death;
So men are driven to things they hate to do. 
Jesus, forgive us all our happiness,
As Thou dost blot out all our miseries.

AND THESE FOR YOU

I

NOT WITH THESE EYES

Let me not see your grief! 
O, let not any see
That grief,
Nor how your heart still rocks
Like a temple with long earthquake shocks. 
Let me not see
Your grief.

These eyes have seen such wrong,
Yet remained cold: 
Ills grown strong,
Corruption’s many-headed worm
Destroying feet that moved so firm—­
Shall these eyes see
Your grief?

And that black worm has crawled
Into the brain
Where thought had walked
Nobly, and love and honour moved as one,
And brave things bravely were begun.... 
Now, can thought see
Unabashed your grief?

Into that brain your grief
Has run like cleansing fire: 
Your grief
Through these unfaithful eyes has leapt
And touched honour where it lightly slept. 
Now when I see
In memory your grief

There is no thought that’s not
Yours, yours,
No love that sleeps,
No spiritual door that opens not
In the green quiet village of thought
Shining with light,
And silent to your silence.

II

ASKING FORGIVENESS

I did not say, “Yes, we had better part
Since love is over or must be suppressed.” 
I did not say, “I’ll hold you in my heart
Saint-like, and in the thought of your thought rest,
And pray for you and wish you happiness
        In a better love than mine.”