PITYOh do not Pity me because I gaveMy heart when lovely April with a gust,Swept down the singing lanes with a cool wave;And do not pity me because I thrustAside your love that once burned as a flame.I was as thirsty as a windy flowerThat bares its bosom to the summer showerAnd to the unremembered winds that came.Pity me most for moments yet to be,In the far years, when some day I shall turnToward this strong path up to our little doorAnd find it barred to all my ecstasy.No sound of your warm voice the winds have borne—Only the crying sea upon the shore.HAROLD VINAL
Oh do not Pity me because I gaveMy heart when lovely April with a gust,Swept down the singing lanes with a cool wave;And do not pity me because I thrustAside your love that once burned as a flame.I was as thirsty as a windy flowerThat bares its bosom to the summer showerAnd to the unremembered winds that came.Pity me most for moments yet to be,In the far years, when some day I shall turnToward this strong path up to our little doorAnd find it barred to all my ecstasy.No sound of your warm voice the winds have borne—Only the crying sea upon the shore.
HAROLD VINAL