L
E. L
‘Whose heart was breaking for a little love.’
Downstairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all;But in my solitary room aboveI turn my face in silence to the wall;My heart is breaking for a little love.Though winter frosts are done,And birds pair every one,And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun.
I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown,I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:Woe’s me for mine own heart that dwells alone, 10My heart that breaketh for a little love.While golden in the sunRivulets rise and run,While lilies bud, for springtide is begun.
All love, are loved, save only I; their heartsBeat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof:They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts,My heart is breaking for a little love.While beehives wake and whirr,And rabbit thins his fur, 20In living spring that sets the world astir.
I deck myself with skills and jewelry,I plume myself like any mated dove:They praise my rustling show, and never seeMy heart is breaking for a little love.While sprouts green lavenderWith rosemary and myrrh,For in quick spring the sap is all astir.
Perhaps some saints in glory guess the truth,Perhaps some angels read it as they move, 30And cry one to another full of ruth,‘Her heart is breaking for a little love.’Though other things have birth,And leap and sing for mirth,When springtime wakes and clothes and feeds the earth.
Yet saith a saint: ‘Take patience for thy scathe;’Yet saith an angel: ‘Wait, for thou shalt proveTrue best is last, true life is born of death,O thou, heart-broken for a little love.Then love shall fill they girth, 40And love make fat thy dearth,When new spring builds new heaven and clean new earth.’