Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By SamuelWoodworth

37 Loves she like me?

O SAY, my flattering heart,

Loves she like me?

Is her’s thy counterpart,

Throbs it like thee?

Does she remember yet

The spot where first we met,

Which I shall ne’er forget,

Loves she like me?

Soft echoes still repeat

“Loves she like me?”

When on that mossy seat,

Beneath the tree,

I wake my amorous lay

While lambkins round me play,

And whispering zephyrs say,

Loves she like me?

On her I think by day,

Loves she like me?

With her in dreams I stray

O’er mead and lea.

My hopes of earthly bliss

Are all comprised in this,

To share her nuptial kiss,—

Loves she like me?

Does absence give her pain?

Loves she like me?

And does she thus arraign

Fortune’s decree?

Does she my name repeat?

Will she with rapture greet

The hour that sees us meet?

Loves she like me?