Now he is dead <br />How should I know <br />My true love's arms <br />From wind and snow? <br /> <br />No man I meet <br />In field or house <br />Though in the street <br />A hundred pass. <br /> <br />The hurrying dust <br />Has never a face, <br />No longer human <br />In man or woman. <br /> <br />Now he is gone <br />Why should I mourn <br />My true love more than mud, <br />than mud or stone?<br /><br />Kathleen Jessie Raine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-of-love/
