Pity

by Sara Teasdale

　　

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They never saw my lover’s face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep, They think it strange that I can sing, They say, “Her love was scarcely deep Since it has left so slight a sting.” They never saw my love, nor knew That in my heart’s most secret place I pity them as angels do Men who have never seen God’s face.

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