“My life is drear; walking I labour sore;

The heart in me is heavy as a stone;

And of my sorrows this the icy core:

Life is so wide, and I am all alone!”

Thou did’st walk so,

with heaven-born eyes down bent

Upon the earth’s gold-rosy, radiant clay,

That thou had’st seen no star in all God’s tent

Had not thy tears made pools first on the way.

Ah, little know…