Couldst thou, - couldst thou, dear, forget?
Many months I 've vainly waited,
Bright the hopes that I have spun,
And to-morrow I am fated
For the death-life of a nun!"
That was all! . . . An hour after
I was strolling once again,
In the midst of mirth and laughter
And the pleasure-seeking train.
* * * * *
Thus the thoughts come quickly flitting
Like old comrades from afar,
To my mind, as I am sitting
Slowly puffing my cigar.
And I oft recall the lady
Read more in News
No Headline