Impressions: A Book of Verse/Too Late
TOO LATE
THE grief that wrings my heart to-night
Is old as Love and stern as Fate,
But yesterday I was unkind
And now I grieve to-day too late.
I stretch to you imploring hands
And naught I grasp but empty air,
The loving words that were your due
I sob, too late, in futile prayer.
The grief that wrings my heart to-night
Is your love's message to my soul
And life cannot contaminate
What memories of you control.