Sparkling drops of purest light
Roll down and merge on crystal glass,
And looking out on skies of grey
She sees not what she hoped would pass.
So in those eyes of autumn brown
Are pearly tears that mirror those
That stream past eyes but are not seen
By any but that widowed rose,
For though she heard she cannot hear
The news that came one hour before.
The sorrow heaves but strength beholds,
For with those tears her heart would pour.
And auburn tendrils frame her face,
But neither does she know nor care.
Though what is wrong should make her blush
Silence reigns for that is fair.
The windows foggy surface gleams
As realisation starts to dawn,
Her knight is never coming home
Across the parks and tendered lawns.