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Amy Lowell - Aftermath
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I learnt to write to you in happier days, 
 And every letter was a piece I chipped 
 From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped 
From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays, 
Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise. 
 To make a pavement for your feet I stripped 
 My soul for you to walk upon, and slipped 
Beneath your steps to soften all your ways. 
 But now my letters are like blossoms pale 
We strew upon a grave with hopeless tears. 
 I ask no recompense, I shall not fail 
Although you do not heed; the long, sad years 
 Still pass, and still I scatter flowers frail, 
And whisper words of love which no one hears.
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