Classic Poem

Another heart is broken,
Broken, and dead.
Take it up carelessly, jubilantly,
You who were father and mother to it,
Take it up in your twitching hands;
Skippingly, bear it forth to the place,
Where lie the things that are dead, long dead;
Hurl it forth into the quiet blackness,
Then return.
No more tears, will you know,
No more pain, no more joy, —
Nothing but blankness eternal,
Blankness, and the hollowness of rasping laughter.
Rejoice!
Another heart is broken,
Broken and dead