Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
VIII. Wedded LoveA Womans Complaint
AnonymousI
You hold me shrined apart from common things,
And that my step, my voice, can bring to you
A gladness that no other presence brings.
You never speak one word of tenderness,
Nor stroke my hair, nor softly clasp my hand
Within your own in loving, mute caress.
To know so well the loving place I hold
Within your life, and so you do not dream
How much I long to hear the story told.
And tranquil thoughts within your mind are stirred,
My heart is crying like a tired child
For one fond look, one gentle, loving word.
You only say, “How dear she is to me!”
Oh, could I read it in your softened glance,
How radiant this plain old world would be!
That choicest blessings unto me be given;
But if you said aloud, “God bless thee, dear!”
I should not ask a greater boon from Heaven.
But should you say, “Through thee my life is sweet,”
The dreariest desert that our path could cross
Would suddenly grow green beneath my feet.
That give refreshment to the thirsty flowers,
But just the drops that, rising to the skies,
From thence descend in softly falling showers.
With all the richest harvest’s golden stores,
If we who own them cannot enter in,
But famished stand before the close-barred doors?
In that true love that crowns our earthly lot,
Go praying with white lips from day to day
For love’s sweet tokens, and receive them not.