Sad Words.
The little threads break one by one1
That bound my heart to thine ;2
Love’s, like the silkworm’s, web is spun,— 3
As perilously fine.4
It snaps beneath an angry word,5
’Neath an unloving look ;6
Frowns are more trenchant than the sword,7
Or Autumn’s reaping-hook.8
A cherub flies above a frozen body of water. Its fists are held up to its eyes, as
though it is crying. There are bare trees
covered in snow below the cherub and a bird, seemingly dead, lying in the bottom right
corner. 1/3 page.
The maiden in the ceaseless mill9
Watching the parting weft,10
Stands ready to repair the ill11
With fingers fast and deft.12
But no forth sister waits beside13
Those fatal hands which sever14
Life’s clue, which like Love’s thread untied,15
Is join’d again, ah, never !16