True, I’m only half in earnest—I touch the cool, wet brim—
He’d laugh if he could see me—
I’m glad he doesn’t see me,
As alone with my queer gladness,
I stoop to drink—to him.
Edna Wahlert McCourt
LOVE ME AT LAST
Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me;
Hard words could never, as these half-words,