| |
| ENOUGH! we ’re tired, my heart and I. | |
| We sit beside the headstone thus, | |
| And wish that name were carv’d for us. | |
| The moss reprints more tenderly | |
| The hard types of the mason’s knife, | 5 |
| As Heaven’s sweet life renews earth’s life | |
| With which we ’re tired, my heart and I. | |
| |
| You see we ’re tired, my heart and I. | |
| We dealt with books, we trusted men, | |
| And in our own blood drench’d the pen, | 10 |
| As if such colors could not fly. | |
| We walk’d too straight for fortune’s end, | |
| We lov’d too true to keep a friend; | |
| At last we ’re tired, my heart and I. | |
| |
| How tired we feel, my heart and I! | 15 |
| We seem of no use in the world; | |
| Our fancies hang gray and uncurl’d | |
| About men’s eyes indifferently; | |
| Our voice which thrill’d you so, will let | |
| You sleep; our tears are only wet: | 20 |
| What do we here, my heart and I? | |
| |
| So tired, so tired, my heart and I! | |
| It was not thus in that old time | |
| When Ralph sat with me ’neath the lime | |
| To watch the sunset from the sky. | 25 |
| “Dear love, you ’re looking tired,” he said: | |
| I, smiling at him, shook my head. | |
| ’T is now we ’re tired, my heart and I. | |
| |
| So tired, so tired, my heart and I! | |
| Though now none takes me on his arm | 30 |
| To fold me close and kiss me warm | |
| Till each quick breath end in a sigh | |
| Of happy languor. Now, alone, | |
| We lean upon this graveyard stone, | |
| Uncheer’d, unkiss’d, my heart and I. | 35 |
| |
| Tired out we are, my heart and I. | |
| Suppose the world brought diadems | |
| To tempt us, crusted with loose gems | |
| Of powers and pleasures? Let it try. | |
| We scarcely care to look at even | 40 |
| A pretty child, or God’s blue heaven, | |
| We feel so tired, my heart and I. | |
| |
| Yet Who complains? My heart and I? | |
| In this abundant earth no doubt | |
| Is little room for things worn out: | 45 |
| Disdain them, break them, throw them by! | |
| And if before the days grew rough | |
| We once were lov’d, us’d,—well enough, | |
| I think, we ’ve far’d, my heart and I. | |
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