Little head against my shoulder
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder
And up eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
But, she sighed

That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
It implied
- Not that she had ceased to love me
None on earth she set above me;
But she sighed

She could not disguise a passion
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
Why she sighed

Afterwards I knew her thoroughly
And she loved me staunchly, truly
Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession
She had sighed
It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November
And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting
Sometimes I sit half regretting
That she sighed