PITYBy Sara TeasdaleTHEY never saw my lover’s face,They only know our love was brief,Wearing awhile a windy graceAnd 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 deepSince it has left so slight a sting.

”They never saw my love, nor knewThat in my heart’s most secret placeI pity them as angels doMen who have never seen God’s face.

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