Mad

Could I but hear you laugh across the street,     Though I, or mine, shared nothing in your glee,     Could I taste that one drop of bitter sweet,          'Twere more than life to me.     If I might see you coming through the door,     Though with averted face and smileless eye,     Were I allowed that little boon, no more,          Then I were glad to die.     But oh, my God! this living day on day,     Stripped of the only joy your starved heart had,     Shut in a prison world and forced to stay -          Why that way souls go mad!     To-day I heard a woman say the earth,     All blossom garlanded, was fair to see.     I laughed with such intensity of mirth,          The woman shrank from me.     Fair?    Why, I see the blackness of the tomb     Where'er I turn, and grave mould on each brow;     And grinning faces peer out of the gloom -          Good God!    I am mad now.