I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give—
In spite of your wild tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
I am alone, as though I stood
On the highest peak of the tired gray world,
About me only swirling snow,
Above me endless space unfurled;
With earth hidden and heaven hidden
And only my own spirit’s pride
To keep me from the peace of those
Who are not lonely, having died.