This is for remembrance

For World Poetry Day...  a sad sonnet by Edna St Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950).

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied 

Who told me time would ease me of my pain! 

I miss him in the weeping of the rain; 

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side, 

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; 

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. 

There are a hundred places where I fear 

To go,—so with his memory they brim. 

And entering with relief some quiet place 

Where never fell his foot or shone his face 

I say, "There is no memory of him here!" 

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

For some reason this has really struck a chord with me.