by John Vance Cheney
You must have known her had you seen her face,
That moment turned away, as by she passed;
It must have told you, that confiding grace,
Of one could not but love you to the last.
And had you heard her voice you must have known
She little talked and softly all that day;
Something, perhaps, was on the June winds blown
To her could not but love you aye and aye.
You did not see her, and you did not hear;
She saw not, heard not you as by she passed;
And it once more was written, Year to year ,
Two shall go, seeking, seeking to the last.
Last updated September 07, 2017