Later Sonnets: How Grey the World Was

How grey the world was with its memories,
How dark even this gay room where the motes run !
How black these curtains, thick with murder cries,
These chairs, this floor with things slain in the sun !
Where I strangled love, a year ago,
And hid it 'neath these pillows drenched in blood,
As a mad mother her sweet babe of woe,
Too strong to die, too fair, which shrieks aloud.
How black and bare and bitter the world was
Just yesterday ! To-day, this room, dear Heaven,
What laughters fill it ! what light footsteps pass !
See, the white chairs dance round me pleasure-driven,
And these sad pillows, where I wept, blab out
The news that you are here, in psalm and shout !