Time does not bring relief

Time does not bring relief: you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain:

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from ev'ry mountain side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go, so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

where never fell his foot or shone his face.

I say "There is no mem'ry of him here,"

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.