I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know: it came to pass
Upon a bright and breezy day
When may was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last eggs had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird forgone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was;
But this I know: it did but pass.
It passed away with sunny May,
With all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and grey.
Oh why is heaven built so far,
Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
That hangs afloat. I would not care to reach the moon,
One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
Beyond my range. I never watch the scattered fire
Of stars, or sun’s far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
And all in vain: For I am bound with fleshly bands,
Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
And catch at hope. –Christina Georgina Rossetti