| |
|
LOVERS,
forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When
the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but
mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at
dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and
snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of
love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He
gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who
lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit
looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the
flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
|
|
|
