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A Year Ago

 I'm sitting by the fire tonight,
 The cat purrs on the rug;
The room's abrim with rosy light,
 Suavely soft and snug;
And safe and warm from dark and storm
 It's cosiness I hug.
Then petulant the window pane Quakes in the tempest moan, And cries: "Forlornly in the rain There starkly streams a stone, Where one so dear who shared your cheer Now lies alone, alone.
Go forth! Go forth into the gale And pass and hour in prayer; This night of sorrow do not fail The one you deemed so fair, The girl below the bitter snow Who died your child to bear.
" So wails the wind, yet here I sit Beside the ember's glow; My grog is hot, my pipe is lit, And loth am I to go To her who died a ten-month bride, Only a year ago.
To-day we weep: each morrow is A littling of regret; The saddest part of sorrow is That we in time forget .
Christ! Let me go to graveyard woe,-- Yea, I will sorrow yet.

Poem by Robert William Service
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