'Could I _but_ have seen you but once again!
It is hard to suffer and not complain!
'Tis my sin against _you_ I most repent
(I _did_ make you happy? you _were_ content?)

'O fool, who possessing all man may win,
Could not keep his fool-nature free from sin!
Love must have changed to a useless regret;
You cannot forgive me--can you forget?'

* * * * *

Without an hour's or a minute's delay
All is arranged, I decide what to do;
My brain is at work, my heart is at play,
I am running, flying, Harry, to you.

O stricken woman, whose life is all black,
Wearily walking in sorrow and shame!
O gay little girl who comes running back,
You are not, I'm certain, one and the same!

The sky is hid in its lead-coloured pall,
Not a bird utters the least little tone;
The blossoms about me wither and fall;
The change _must_ be in _me_--and me alone!

* * * * *