No Tears to Write, No Tears to Read

Good, let’s keep it that way.
Who needs more grief and pain?

I don’t think Frost praised form
In verse and toil in tales

To tell us a hard truth—
He was good at some forms

And he wished us to think
All his poems were hard won.

Some good poems are hard won.
Some bad poems are hard won.

Some good poems, dark-souled,
Calm, and dry-eyed, just come

Of our own will, to show
How cold we are, and numb.