Aye! heartbreak of the tattered hills, And mourning of the raining sky! Heartbreak and mourning, since God wills, Are mine, and God knows why! The brutal wind that herds the storm In hail-big clouds that freeze along, As this gray heart are doubly warm With thrice the joy of song. I held one dearer than each day Of life God sets in limpid gold What thief hath stole that gem away To leave me poor and old! The heartbreak of the hills be mine, Of trampled twig and mired leaf, Of rain that sobs through thorn and pine An unavailing grief! The sorrow of the childless skies' Good-nights, long said, yet never said, As when I kissed my child's blue eyes And lips ice-dumb and dead.
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