My heart was made of brittle glass ,
I laid it at your feet .
Down at your feet in the dusty grass
Where flowers drooped in the heat .
You bent and took it with a frown ,
You broke the brittle glass .
You tossed the fragments idly down ,
Deep in the dusty grass .
Why do you kneel here in the rain
Searching the trampled mud ?
Before you hold that heart again
Your hands shall smart with blood .
11th May 1952