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A Fixed Idea

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Written by Amy Lowell

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 What torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant, and however kind,
However welcome still, the weary mind
Aches with its presence.
Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly; unsought The old delight is with us but to find That all recurring joy is pain refined, Become a habit, and we struggle, caught.
You lie upon my heart as on a nest, Folded in peace, for you can never know How crushed I am with having you at rest Heavy upon my life.
I love you so You bind my freedom from its rightful quest.
In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.


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