The wisest sorrow He says Is the one that has a double vision To see both loss and gain at once. Discretion has won this battle with nature Which, of course, assumes that they are on separate sides. If grief is natural Doesn’t discretion suggest The expression of it? We do not bear our hearts in grief Or knit our brows in woe On purpose. It is natural that we should But if we do it because reason says we ought to That is no longer grief That is no longer woe. We’re in trappings and suits territory here. Then, too, if we feel our hearts in grief And want to knit our brows in woe And do not allow them forth Due to some imagined discretion, Aren’t we then betraying our wisdom? The wisest sorrow Would seem to be the one that knows what it is and Finds its way out Allowing the heart to heave if it must Or the brow to knit. The wisest sorrow is not likely to be A double-speak speech Circling around the idea of sorrow. It is not likely to brag About the triumph of reason Or discretion Over nature. It is not a bulldozer laughing over fallen trees.