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Arthur Symons - Apology
Work rating: Low

Why is it that I sing no songs of you, 
Now, as in those old days I used to do? 
I have made many songs, and bitter songs. 
Against you, I have done you many wrongs 
In verse; and now, when you and I can sit 
By the same fire, and looking into it 
In silence, dream without unhappiness 
Each his own dream in friendly loneliness, 
I sing of you no longer. Still I find 
Your shadow in all the corners of my mind, 
And in my heart find you; but there, alas, 
Though I search every cranny where it was, 
My art I find not: it is well: my art 
Knew only songs for an unquiet heart.
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