On summer afternoons I sit
Quiescent by you in the park
And idly watch the sunbeams gild
And tint the as-trees' bark.
Or else I watch the squirrel frisk
And chaffer in the grassy lane;
And all the while mark you voice
Breaking with love and pain.
I know a woman who would give
Her chance of heaven to take my place;
To see the love-light in your eyes,
The love-glow on your face!
And there's a man whose lightest word
Can set my chilly blood afire;
Fulfillment of his least behest
Dines my life's desire.
But he will none of me, nor I
Of you. Nor you of her. 'Tis said
The world is full of jests like these. --
I wish that I were dead.
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