Mine the lonely way, The unworn path, And mourning winds that play On strings unlistened to before. Mine the aching heart, For none can love a spirit Silent and apart, Standing shadowless beyond the door. Mine the weary breast, Where children lie Briefly, tenderly to rest; And then I weep, For they are there no more. Mine the scornful mind, Which severs me Contemptuously, forever from my kind; I hear, as from afar, gay music come -- I stand apart, and beat my lonely drum. |