Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.
The Unknown Belovèd
I
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.
But drawing near I said,
“Kind sir, and can you tell me
Who is it here lies dead?”
Died here this very day,
That had known twenty Aprils
Had she but lived till May.”
“Good sir, how say you so!
Here have I no belovèd,
This house I do not know.”
Was destined unto thee
Here lies, thy true belovèd
Whom thou shalt never see.”
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.