By unknown Submitted by Jane Rain Date: 2004 Nov 02 Comment on this Work [[2004.11.02.12.17.32206]] |
Love was true to me, True and tender; I who ought to be Love's defender, Let the cold winds blow Till they chilled them; Let the winds and snow Shroud him-and I know That I killed him. Years he cried to me To be kinder; I was blind to see And grew blinder. Years with soft hands raised Fondly reaching, Wept and prayed and praised, Still beseeching. When he died I woke, God! how lonley, When the grey dawn broke On one only. Now beside Love's grave I am kneeling; All he sought and gave I am feeling. |