She watched the blaze,
And so I said the thing I'd come to say,
Pondered for days.
Her lips moved slow,
And then a widened eye she flashed upon me
Sudden as a blow.
She turned again,
Her hands clasping her knees and did not speak :
She did not deign.
And I, poor gnome!
A chided cur crawls to a hole to hide :
. . . I toddled home.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
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