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 in the wind and then is heard no more.