Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/95

Arabel :But when I repeat I love her, love her only, A cloud of wonder passes over her face— She veils her eyes. The color comes to her cheeks. And when she picks some clover blossoms and tears them Her hand is trembling. And when I tell her again I love her, love her only, she blots her eyes With a handkerchief to hide a tear that starts. And she says to me: "You do not know me at all— How can you love me? You never saw me before Last night" "Well, tell me about yourself." And after a time she tells me the story: About her father who ran away from her mother; And how she hated her father, and how she grieved When her mother died: and how a good grandmother Helped her and helps her now; and how her sister Divorced her husband. And then she paused a moment: "I am not strong, you'd have to guard me gently, And that takes money, dear, as well as love. Two years ago I was very ill, and since then I am not strong." "Well, I can work," I said. "And what would you think of a little cottage, Not too far out, with a yard and hosts of roses, And a vine on the porch, and a little garden, And a dining-room where the sun comes in When a morning breeze blows over your brow; And you sit across the table and serve me,