Oh do not Pity me because I gave My heart when lovely April with a gust, Swept down the singing lanes with a cool wave;And do not pity me because I thrust Aside your love that once burned as a flame.
I was as thirsty as a windy flower That bares its bosom to the summer shower And to the unremembered winds that came.
Pity me most for moments yet to be, In the far years, when some day I shall turn Toward this strong path up to our little door And find it barred to all my ecstasy.
No sound of your warm voice the winds have borne-Only the crying sea upon the shore.
HAROLD VINAL
