Page:The Happy Marriage and Other Poems.pdf/94

 dull brain, O unperceiving nerves That cannot sense what so torments my soul, But like torn trees, when deep Novembers roll Tragic with mighty winds and vaulting curves Of sorrowful vast sound, and light that swerves In blown and tossing eddies, branch and bole Shudder and gesture with a grotesque dole, A grief that misconceives the grief it serves,

O too dull brain,—with some more subtle sense I know you here within the lightless room Reaching your hand to me, and my faint eyes See only darkness and the night's expanse, And horribly, within the listening gloom, My voice comes back, still eager with surprise.