I stood upon the canyonside
And shouted out my name,
Then listened to its reaches wide
But never echo came.
I called to you, in whisper soft,
But O my heart beat loud,
Yet silence bore no words aloft
Because your ears were proud.
Disdainful love, disdainful life,
I offered all I had,
But, all rejected midst world’s strife,
I withdrew, and grew sad.
At last I gathered up my thoughts
And put them into sheaves,
But these dissected into doubts
Just like autumnal leaves.
The wintry snowfalls wafted down
Sepulchre-white to cover;
Sleep buried all that I had known,
And dreams of you, my lover.
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