My Heart and I
I.
ENOUGH ! were tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the headstohus,
And wish that name were carved for us.
The moss reprints more tenderly
The hard types of the masons knife,
As heavens sweet life renews earths life
With which were tired, my heart and I.
II.
You see were tired, my heart and I.
We dealt with books, we trusted men,
And in our own blood drehe pen,
As if such colours could not fly.
We walked toht for fortunes end,
We loved too true to keep a friend ;
At last were tired, my heart and I.
III.
How tired we feel, my heart and I !
We seem of no use in the world ;
Our fancies hang grey and uncurled
About mens eyes indifferently ;
Our voice which thrilled you so, will let
You sleep; our tears are only wet :
What do we here, my heart and I ?
IV.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
It was not thus in that old time
When Ralph sat with me h the lime
To watch the su from the sky.
`Dear love, youre looking tired, he said;
I, smiling at him, shook my head :
Tis now were tired, my heart and I.
V.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
Though now akes me on his arm
To fold me close and kiss me warm
Till each quick breath end in a sigh
Of happy languor. Now, alone,
We lean upon this graveyard stone,
Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.
VI.
Tired out we are, my heart and I.
Suppose the world brought diadems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, ods blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I.
VII.
Yet who plains ? My heart and I ?
In this abundah no doubt
Is little room for things worn out :
Disdain them, break them, throw them by
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used, -- well enough,
I think, weve fared, my heart and I.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning