A Fool Thought the Planet Cared
A Fool — believed the Planet — paused —
To hear his private Cry —
As if the Hills — kept Sympathy —
For one so small as He —
He wrote his Sorrows — on the Wind —
The Wind — misplaced the Page —
The Ocean — with its thousand mouths —
Returned no Word — nor Rage —
The Stars — were occupied with Fire —
The Trees — with their own Green —
And Time — that ancient Murderer —
Forgot where He had been —
Yet still — He knocked on Nature’s Door —
With bleeding Hand — and Brow —
Until at last — the Silence spoke —
“We never knew You — Now —”
And in that vast Indifference —
More cold than any Grave —
He found the dreadful Liberty —
No Universe could save —
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