The April night is still and sweet <br /> With flowers on every tree; <br />Peace comes to them on quiet feet, <br /> But not to me. <br /> <br />My peace is hidden in his breast <br /> Where I shall never be; <br />Love comes to-night to all the rest, <br /> But not to me.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/but-not-to-me/
