The Busy Heart
Now that we've done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
Women with child,
content; and old men sleeping;
And wet strong ploughlands, scarred for certain grain;
And babes that
weep, and so forget their weeping;
And the young heavens, forgetful after rain;
And evening hush, broken
by homing wings;
And Song's nobility, and Wisdom holy,
That live, we dead. I would think of a thousand
Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly,
One after one, like tasting a sweet food.
I have need to
busy my heart with quietude.