‘ What’ere The Errant Mind Regrets, The Heart Must Grieve ‘
To my dearest friend, ‘Strenuba ‘
04/03/12
I
What’ere the errant mind regrets, the heart must grieve
until by weight of care, is full deceived
by half-remembered lies that are ignored, or, scarce believed;
so that the ‘sundered soul cries out—oh God !--for it to leave.
II
When the pleasant shore of all we love is crumbled by the agony of storm-tossed pain
When lashed by thun’drous waves again, again.
And thus a blinded mind, and sorrowed heart in vain
can find no safer ground, when—midst mighty roils of thunder, crash—and no safe havens remain.
III
How quick, the ‘cummulated years pass away !,
The dreams of a youthful happiness cannot be found within a nightmare’s grave that’s visited by night, ignored by day
as too often, base transient needs betray:
the needs for food and shelter hold more important sway.
IV
And yet, too many hours of dread remorse are seen;
So that the once-fair visage, now lined and mean
is rendered by despair a thing obscene.
Could pitied tears wash as thorough, and as clean ?
V
It is a hellish, living death to death to death that has no end.
Oh! Would flights of Angels, sent by some kinder God descend
to offer some rarer comfort, to loose a feebled tongue some while to send
to you, ‘Strenuba’, my constancy, my deep regard, my love, my ever, dearest friend.
End
