And show my sorrow—wouldn’t you?
But, ah, alas! I soon began
To see the sad deceit of man;
I’d sit and watch and wait in vain,
My nose against the window-pane,
Or listen with an anxious spell,
To hear the ringing of the bell,
And bless the beggar that would dare,
To waken hope and bring despair!
Thus matters stood at seventeen—