* * *

I used to love you: and perhaps love lingers
Within the deep recesses of my heart.
But don’t succumb to tap of anxious fingers;
I don’t desire to grieve you for my part.
I loved you with a silent, hopeless passion,
Betimes with jealous eye, betimes with fear,
And in a most sincere and tender fashion —
I hope another’s love may be as dear.