You ask why I am sad to-day, <br />I have no cares, no griefs, you say? <br />Ah, yes, 't is true, I have no grief-- <br />But--is there not the falling leaf? <br /> <br />The bare tree there is mourning left <br />With all of autumn's gray bereft; <br />It is not what has happened me, <br />Think of the bare, dismantled tree. <br /> <br />The birds go South along the sky, <br />I hear their lingering, long good-bye. <br />Who goes reluctant from my breast? <br />And yet--the lone and wind-swept nest. <br /> <br />The mourning, pale-flowered hearse goes by, <br />Why does a tear come to my eye? <br />Is it the March rain blowing wild? <br />I have no dead, I know no child. <br /> <br />I am no widow by the bier <br />Of him I held supremely dear. <br />I have not seen the choicest one <br />Sink down as sinks the westering sun. <br /> <br />Faith unto faith have I beheld, <br />For me, few solemn notes have swelled; <br />Love bekoned me out to the dawn, <br />And happily I followed on. <br /> <br />And yet my heart goes out to them <br />Whose sorrow is their diadem; <br />The falling leaf, the crying bird, <br />The voice to be, all lost, unheard-- <br /> <br />Not mine, not mine, and yet too much <br />The thrilling power of human touch, <br />While all the world looks on and scorns <br />I wear another's crown of thorns. <br /> <br />Count me a priest who understands <br />The glorious pain of nail-pierced hands; <br />Count me a comrade of the thief <br />Hot driven into late belief. <br /> <br />Oh, mother's tear, oh, father's sigh, <br />Oh, mourning sweetheart's last good-bye, <br />I yet have known no mourning save <br />Beside some brother's brother's grave.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weltschmertz-2/
