Lament

"We who are left, how shall we look again

Happily on the sun or feel the rain

Without remembering how they who went

Ungrudgingly and spent

Their lives for us loved, too, the sun and rain?

A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings

But we, how shall we turn to little things

And listen to the birds and winds and streams

Made holy by their dreams

Nor feel the heart-break in the heart of things? "