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Robert Laurence Binyon - Grief
Work rating: Low

Grief is like a child,
 Led with relentless hand
 By a strange nurse, whose face
 Seems never to have smiled,
 Whose onward gaze severe
 Slackens not, nor her pace,
 Nor that child`s faltering fear
 Stoops she to understand.

 So strides the world, while grief
 Unwilling is borne on,
 With ever lingering mind,
 Through the strange days, alone.
 Oh, like a fluttering leaf
 On the ways of the strong wind,
 Or pebbles helpless thrown
 By night on a wild strand,
 Lost are the thoughts of grief,
 That none can understand!
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