He Loved Her.
He loved her. His blue eyes looked lovingly down into hers
And read there an answer responsive and true.
She knew that he loved her. His eyes told the tale of his love,
Those half-closed, kind eyes of such soft, melting blue.
But his lips never spoke those sweet words to her ear,
Those three sweet words, “I love you,” she longed so to hear,
O why wouldn’t he just say, “I love you?”
He loved her. His red, trembling lips touched her own, and clung there
In one tender kiss, one long, rapturous kiss.
She knew that he loved her. Her heart throbbed with happiness deep,
And her whole being thrilled with an infinite bliss.
But the whispered “My darling,” she longed for in vain,
For his lips, when not kissing, would silent remain.
O why wouldn’t he whisper, “My darling?”
He loved her. His arms held her quivering form close to him;
She felt his hot breath on her soft, blushing cheek.
She knew that he loved her. With passionate tenderness then
He clasped her still closer. Her own will grew weak.
Would the sweet, longed-for words from his lips never come?
Alas! never, poor girl! For her lover was dumb.
O what exquisite joy was denied her!