I was gentle and true.
But she was not.
So pardon me that I’m not as gentle with you.
She was untruthful and unkind
So I’m not saying what’s exactly on my mind.
She was someone I cannot forget
So I’m not able to love you yet.
I was upright and true.
I don’t know if I can be so with you.
Through her love I learned
To hate. I would perish if I burned;
Feeling love again with that fire,
I would only mock my highest desire
With that which never loves as it should,
Because she was bad—and I was good.
If I love you, I will not call her,
I will only call out your name,
But it can never, never be the same,
And our love will be a little smaller.
Our love will have an understanding
And, when under the trees we kiss,
It will be a yearning for love both of us miss,
And the kiss for that will be the kiss for this.
Under those scented trees, will a great love stir,
When you kiss madly what is gone, and I think of her?
What will you feel as I lean in to kiss you?
That love is sad? And can never be new?
