I had this thought a while ago,
"My darling cannot understand
What I have done, or what would do
in this blind bitter land.'
And I grew weary of the sun
Until my thoughts cleared up again,
remembering that the best I have done
was done to make it plain;
that every year I have cried, "At length
my darling understands it all,
because I have come into my strength,
and words obey my call';
That had she done so who can say
what would have shaken from the sieve?
I might have thrown poor words away
and been content to live.