Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/Sad Wisdom

by Sarah Piatt

SAD WISDOM: Four Years Old.

"Well, but some time I will be dead;
 Then you will love me, too!"
Ah! mouth so wise for mouth so red,
 I wonder how you knew.
(Closer, closer, little brown head—
 Not long can I keep you!)

Here, take this one poor bud to hold,
 Take this long kiss and last;
Love cannot loosen one fixed fold
 Of the shroud that holds you fast—
Never, never; oh, cold, so cold!
 All that was sweet is past.

Oh, tears, and tears, and foolish tears,
 Dropped on a grave somewhere! . . .
Does not the child laugh in my ears
 What time I feign despair?
Whisper, whisper—I know he hears;
 Yet this is hard to bear.

O world, with your wet face above
 One veil of dust, thick-drawn!
O weird voice of the hapless dove,
 Broken for something gone!—
Tell me, tell me, when will we love
 The thing the sun shines on?