Poems (Van Vorst)/Dead Love

by Marie Van Vorst

DEAD LOVE

Dark the day when love is gone—
  When the vital spark
Dies, and leaves the soul of one
Dark.

April for the birds shall hark.
  March's wildness sown,
June with crimson bloom shall mark.
What has hope to build upon
Cold and stiff and stark?
All the future stretches on
Dark.