TIRED
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I am tired tonight, and something, The wind maybe, or the rain, Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside, Has brought back the past, and its pain. And I feel, as I sit here thinking, That the hand of a dead old June Has reached out hold of my heart's loose strings, And is drawing them up in tune.
I am tired tonight, and I miss you, And long for you, love, through tears; And it seems but today that I saw you go - You, who have been gone for years. And I seem to be newly lonely - I, who am so much alone; And the strings of my heart are well in tune, But they have not the same old tone.
I am tired; and that old sorrow Sweeps down the bed of my soul, As a turbulent river might suddenly break Away from a dam's control. It beareth a wreck on its bosom, A wreck with a snow-white sail, And the hand on my heart-strings thrums away, But they only respond with a wail.
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