poem

time does not bring relief;you all had lied

who told me time would easeof my pain!

i miss him in the weeping of the rain

i want him in the shrinking of the tide

the old snows melt from every mountain-side

and last years leaves are smoke in every lane

but last years bitter must remain

heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide

there are a hundred places werei fear

to-go so with his memory they brim

and entering with relief some quiet place

where never fell his foot or shone his face

i say "there is no memory of him here"

and so starnd stricken, so remembering him.

           EDNA ST.VINCENT MILLAY