William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.
Three Quatrains
S
Of her arm’s weariness she gave no sign,
But, smiling, raised it up
That none might see or guess it held no wine.
Forgive me not! Hate me and I shall know
Some of Love’s fire still burns within your breast!
Forgiveness finds its home in hearts at rest,
On dead volcanoes only lies the snow.
One deep red rose I dropped into his grave,
So small a thing to give so great a friend!
Yet well he knew it was my heart I gave
And must fare on without it to the end.