Time Doesn't Bring Relief

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TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied-
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!-
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;-
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;-
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,-
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;-
But last year’s bitter loving must remain-
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!-
There are a hundred places where I fear-
To go,—so with his memory they brim!-
And entering with relief some quiet place-
Where never fell his foot or shone his face-
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”-
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!-