 | Poems |  |
208
CCXXVIII
[That this should be the common grief of all]
That this should be the common grief of all,
I dare not think it. No, to me alone
This grief is known,
Only on me the burning arrows fall.
I dare not think it. No, to me alone
This grief is known,
Only on me the burning arrows fall.
The strong gods know that I have strength to hide
The greatest of their gifts, the power to grieve,
In silence; and in silence I receive
Their last reward; in silence I abide.
The greatest of their gifts, the power to grieve,
In silence; and in silence I receive
Their last reward; in silence I abide.
| Poems | |