No hurt I did not feel, no death That was not mine; mine each last breath That, crying, met an answering cry From the compassion that was I. All suffering mine, and mine its rod; Mine, pity like the pity of God. EDNA ST VINCENT MILLAY Share this:TweetEmailPrintMoreRedditShare on TumblrLike this:Like Loading... Related TwohundredfiftynineTwohundredsixtyone