The Kiss I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south

The Kiss I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south. For though I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had.

Сара Тисдейл, Реки, текущие к морю. Избранные стихотворения