And When my Joy was Born

And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the

house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy

this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that

laugheth in the sun."

But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was

my astonishment.

And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the

house-top--and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone,

unsought and unvisited.

Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine

held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.

Then my Joy died of isolation.

And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my dead Sorrow.

But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and

then is heard no more.