Pity
by Sara Teasdale
They never saw my lovers face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep, They think it strange that I can sing, They say, Her love was scarcely deep Since it has left so slight a sting. They never saw my love, nor knew That in my hearts most secret place I pity them as angels do Men who have never seen Gods face.
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