None ever was in love with me but grief.    

   She wooed my from the day that I was born; 

She stole my playthings first, the jealous thief,    

   And left me there forlorn. 

The birds that in my garden would have sung,    

   She scared away with her unending moan; 

She slew my lovers too when I was young,    

   And left me there alone. 

Grief, I have cursed thee often--now at last    

   To hate thy name I am no longer free; 

Caught in thy bony arms and prisoned fast,    

   I love no love but thee.

Today's poem is in the public domain.