Crying by the Thames

Why are you crying by the green waters
Of the Thames? Was it the weeping willows
That inspired you so? The blue-grey skies?

You're not sure, are you, where the waters start
And end. Which streams, you wonder, which mountains
Come to feed the river? Does it matter?

You rest there in the drizzle, passers-by
Distant figures to you. This sadness goes
Too deep, you know, for their watertight lives.

But let me assure you: we, too, have wept
In the course of sorrow, here or elsewhere.
It is not with envy that we walk by.