Poem by Eleanor Farjeon

The Outlet

Grief struck me. I so shook in heart and wit
I thought I must speak of it or die of it.

A certain friend I had with strength to lend,
When mine was spent I went to find my friend,

Who, rising up with eyes wild for relief,
Hung on my neck and spoke to me of grief.

I raked the ashes of my burned-out strength
And found one coal to warm her with at length.

I sat with her till I was icy cold.
At last I went away, my grief untold.

1. Sonnets. 12. I hear love answer: Since within the mesh
2. For Joan
3. Sonnets. 17. My Little Dream, My Momentary Dream
4. Sonnets. 10. What is this anguish then that always stands
5. Myfanwy Among the Leaves

Emily Dickinson The Outlet ("My river runs to thee")

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