Her cheeks, ever with a monarch Of enthusiasm, feeling and deeps Are damp today, her nose, fitful red, Around ever an air, that smelt sweet, Is bitter now, and she so split. A silent ripple of tears, to the river It falls circling the unhomely water, She has to walk long miles forlorn, After the soil recedes beneath feet, As she lost her shade of eye. The dusk has torn her bleeding heart As she may grin, but never tell you, And you in cheerful terms let ridicule, Her pain that holds such translucence, Her desolation that strokes the soul. Love, a sweet memory. ~
