Grief

Oh take away the sun! The beauty hurts:
The long light sleeping on the grass:
And take with you the tiny sound of birds,
Delicate, unsure as dreams that pass.
Remove for me the fragile shape of flowers,
The tender blue of April skies:
Fling far away the running of the wind,
Whispering the grass its fragrant lies.
For when you go, I want no breathless earth
To mock me with its cradled bloom:
But let my heart and all the wide world hold
Emptiness - one bleakly vacant room.