Lucy Knox (1845–1884)

I HAVE no wealth of grief; no sobs, no tears,

Not any sighs, no words, no overflow

Nor storms of passion, no reliefs; yet oh!

I have a leaden grief, and with it fears

Lest they who think there ’s nought where nought appears

May say I never loved him. Ah not so!

Love for him fills my heart; if grief is slow

In utterance, remember that for years

Love was a habit and the grief is new,

So new a thing it has no language yet.

Tears crowd my heart: with eyes that are not wet

I watch the rain-drops, silent, large, and few,

Blotting a stone; then, comforted, I take

Those drops to be my tears, shed for his sake.