Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
Mad
Could I but hear you laugh across the street, Though I, or mine, shared nothing in your glee, Could I taste that one drop of bitter sweet, ’Twere more than life to me. If I might see you coming through the door, Though with averted face and smileless eye, Were I allowed that little boon, no more, Then I were glad to die. But oh, my God! this living day on day, Stripped of the only joy your starved heart had, Shut in a prison world and forced to stay-- Why that way souls go mad! To-day I heard a woman say the earth, All blossom garlanded, was fair to see. I laughed with such intensity of mirth, The woman shrank from me. Fair? Why, I see the blackness of the tomb Where’er I turn, and grave mould on each brow; And grinning faces peer out of the gloom-- Good God! I am mad now.
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