Page:Poems by Christina Rossetti with illustrations by Florence Harrison.djvu/162

94 Ah Willie, Willie, was my love less worth

Than apples with their green leaves piled above?

I counted rosiest apples on the earth

Of far less worth than love.

So once it was with me you stooped to talk

Laughing and listening in this very lane;

To think that by this way we used to walk

We shall not walk again!

I let my neighbours pass me, ones and twos

And groups; the latest said the night grew chill,

And hastened: but I loitered, while the dews

Fell fast I loitered still.