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Arthur Symons - The Blind Heart
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Be still, O hunger of heart, and let pity speak: 
Her soul is a wandering bird, and its wings are weak, 
Pier heart is a little flame, it pants at a sigh: 
blind and pitiless heart, it is love going by. 

If I had only pity, and a little rest, 
Peace as a rose would blossom again in my breast; 
If I had only patience, and let love free, 
As a bird to its nest, my love would come to me. 

But I have neither patience nor pity at all, 
And I hold her heart in my hand, and I let it fall; 
I hold the joy of my life in my heart, and I seem 
As one who walks and lament in a mournful dream.
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