WEARINESS

Oh let me be alone, far from eyes and faces,

Let me be alone, a while, even from you;

My soul is like a desert, sick of light-filled spaces,

The urge of useless winds, the sky of pitiless blue;

Let me be alone, a while, in twilit places,

Waiting the merciful night, the stately stars and the dew.

Sara Teasdale, Mirror of the Heart, p. 36