A Lovers’ Quarrel.
I could not hear all that they must have said ;1
But as I sat beside the little stream2
I watched them part, with just one angry word.3
She passed me quickly, with a down-drooped head,4
Red cheeks, eyes flashing with a scornful gleam,5
A hasty step, as by deep passion stirred ;6
She did not turn, nor look back where he stood ;7
But vanished quickly in the thick green wood.8
I watched him sigh, then noted how he gazed9
At her retreating form ; he whistled low10
And softly to himself ; in deepest thought11
He whispered, “ Is she vexed ?” —then was amazed12
That ’twas, in truth, she really meant to go.13
He looked once more, as if indeed he sought14
To bring her back ; but on she went that day—15
Then he went too—but ’twas the other way.16
They never met again ; but oft I see17
The girl, a woman grown, come by this seat,18
And gaze into the stream with tear-worn eyes !19
And then I wonder why such things should be !20
If she had turned her head, or stayed her feet,21
Life would have altered, love’s bright sunny skies22
Shone o’er her ever ! ’Tis but things like this23
That form our lives, and make our woe or bliss !24