She Loves Another

I look out upon the street
From my room and I repeat,
She is coming!  We will meet!
She is near!
Oh, no! I must forget her,
Never seek her, not regret her!
She loves another - Let her
Not appear!

At the thought I feel a shudder,
Like the faint convulsive flutter
Of a crippled crumpled bird
Within my soul,
Shot down suddenly from the height
Of its upward soaring flight,
And nothing now will ever
Make it whole.

“Come, your lover is untrue,
Now the thing that you must do
Is to love another too-”
But a cry
Seems to answer, “One not she!
Do you think such things can be?
Two who love and are not we-
She and I!

“Do you think you can recover
From the one that was your lover
To bestow upon another
Any shred
Of what once you wholly gave?
Is there something still to save?
You are dreaming, or you rave-
It is dead.”

Do I not perceive it well?
This my tale is brief to tell-
And the sum of my misfortune
Soon to give:
I can no more ever love her.
I can never love another
And loveless it is better
Not to live.

Ann Keith

If you have any comments on this poem, Ann Keith  would be pleased to hear from you.