Daniel Ridgway Knight, Un Deuil (c. 1900)
Mourning, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
My soul is hardened and filled with anger,
Against the villain who came in the night,
Who did make for sure my love did not stir.
Now my weakened life is without its light.
Black is the color of the clothes I wear,
But nowhere near the darkness in my heart.
Many hang their heads after they did stare,
Thinking that I must soon find a new start.
To survive soon I did take another.
The shadow in my bed is a stranger.
His kisses are many yet taste bitter,
For my weary heart has yet to smolder.
In our life are we allowed but one love,
To seek a perfect match for our one glove?