TO E.T.: 1917

You sleep too well--too far away,

For sorrowing word to soothe or wound;

Your very quiet seems to say

How longed-for a peace you have found.

Else, had not death so lured you on,

You would have grieved--'twixt joy and fear--

To know how my small loving son

Had wept for you, my dear.

Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes. Volume I. · 第 153 / 165 题