Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
Sonnets of Sorrow. 6. My love, my love, how often in old days
My love, my love, how often in old days I cried, "Oh, I would die for you, dear heart!" But He who planned the parting of our ways Appointed unto me the harder part. He cares not greatly for my thanks, I wis, But in your converse with Him (which must be, Since that, only that, accounts for this Astounding silence between you and me), Say that from out a life all bruised and broken In grief too deep for tears to do their share, My prayers of gratitude are hourly spoken Because He saved you from the cross I bear. Such grievous pain, such unrelenting woe--- You never could have borne it, dear, I know.
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