The Golden Darkness/In Grief
IN GRIEF.
You say that spring has come again
With singing fire in her veins,
That life is throbbing everywhere
In flower-kissing winds and rains.
With singing fire in her veins,
That life is throbbing everywhere
In flower-kissing winds and rains.
But oh, why will you taunt me so
With all these shining words you say?
My spirit now is deaf and blind,
And springtime was not made for clay.
With all these shining words you say?
My spirit now is deaf and blind,
And springtime was not made for clay.
It matters not in all this world
Where stricken, groping souls abound
Unto the blind how bright the light,
Unto the deaf how sweet the sound.
Where stricken, groping souls abound
Unto the blind how bright the light,
Unto the deaf how sweet the sound.