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 throughly,
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.