Here is a wound that never will heal, I know, <br />Being wrought not of a dearness and a death, <br />But of a love turned ashes and the breath <br />Gone out of beauty; never again will grow <br />The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow <br />Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath <br />Its friendly weathers down, far Underneath <br />Shall be such bitterness of an old woe. <br />That April should be shattered by a gust, <br />That August should be levelled by a rain, <br />I can endure, and that the lifted dust <br />Of man should settle to the earth again; <br />But that a dream can die, will be a thrust <br />Between my ribs forever of hot pain.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-is-a-wound-that-never-will-heal-i-know/
