WORDS
 
 I HAD this thought a while ago,
 "My darling cannot understand
 What I have done, or what would do
 In this blind bitter land.'
 And I grew weary of the sun
 Until my thoughts cleared up again,
 Remembering that the best I have done
 Was done to make it plain;
 That every year I have cried, "At length
 My darling understands it all,
 Because I have come into my strength,
 And words obey my call';
 That had she done so who can say
 What would have shaken from the sieve?
 I might have thrown poor words away
 And been content to live.