| |
| I HAVE a smiling face, she said, | |
| I have a jest for all I meet, | |
| I have a garland for my head | |
| And all its flowers are sweet,— | |
| And so you call me gay, she said. | 5 |
| |
| Grief taught to me this smile, she said, | |
| And Wrong did teach this jesting bold; | |
| These flowers were plucked from garden-bed | |
| While a death-chime was tolled. | |
| And what now will you say?—she said. | 10 |
| |
| Behind no prison-grate, she said, | |
| Which slurs the sunshine half a mile, | |
| Live captives so uncomforted | |
| As souls behind a smile. | |
| God’s pity let us pray, she said. | 15 |
| |
| I know my face is bright, she said,— | |
| Such brightness, dying suns diffuse; | |
| I bear upon my forehead shed | |
| The sign of what I lose,— | |
| The ending of my day, she said. | 20 |
| |
| If I dared leave this smile, she said, | |
| And take a moan upon my mouth, | |
| And tie a cypress round my head, | |
| And let my tears run smooth,— | |
| It were the happier way, she said. | 25 |
| |
| And since that must not be, she said, | |
| I fain your bitter world would leave. | |
| How calmly, calmly, smile the Dead, | |
| Who do not, therefore, grieve! | |
| The yea of Heaven is yea, she said. | 30 |
| |
| But in your bitter world, she said, | |
| Face-joy ’s a costly mask to wear, | |
| ’Tis bought with pangs long nourishèd | |
| And rounded to despair. | |
| Grief’s earnest makes life’s play, she said. | 35 |
| |
| Ye weep for those who weep? she said— | |
| Ah fools! I bid you pass them by. | |
| Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled | |
| What time their eyes were dry. | |
| Whom sadder can I say? she said. | 40 |
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