The Conservative (Lovecraft)/April 1916/The Night Wind Bared My Heart
The Night Wind Bared My Heart.
The Night Wind bared my heart;
I felt the old, keen smart
Of grief: cold Mem'ry's eyes
Her subtle misery plies
With art!
The Day Wind heal'd the smart
That fasten'd on my heart;
But, Oh, from grief was prest
The Joys that from my breast
Depart!
Winifred Virginia Jordan.