How easy it is to wage war
on the elements, and to dare
all. How hard it seems to wait
as I must, so very quiet,
while life ticks by; and be at home
to all the visitings of time;
and hear the ceaseless sparrow-
flutterings of sorrow
in the eaves of the heart’s house.
I long to be of use
in the great world. I dare not
remember, cannot forget.
Know me for what I am.