ONE grief on me is laid
?Each day of every year.
Wherein no soul can aid.
?Whereof no soul can hear:
Whereto no end is seen
?Except to grieve again —
Ah, Mary Magdalene.
?Where is there greater pain?
To dream on dear disgrace
?Each hour of every day —
To bring no honest face
?To aught I do or say:
To lie from morn till e’en —
?To know my lies are vain —
Ah, Mary Magdalene.
?Where can be greater pain?
To watch my steadfast fear
?A............