Torment

In people's midst I stand alone
And seek the solitude of home
Can't bear to see the happy lot
When they possess what I do not.

At home, in sacred solitude
On journey of my life I brood
I earned no wealth, no love nor friends
And it's much too late to make amends.

My starving heart, it longs for bread
A moment close with soul kindred
But no one saw me worth this stead
Thus, resolute from love I fled.

My craft, therein retreated I
May works of beauty win me joy?
The years flew by in toil unceased
But all too few my labor pleased!

Tender love in vain I sought
The works of beauty I have wrought
Brought joy to none that I had thought
And all I did has been for naught.