The Forgotten Lover
The night was cold, and so dreary that my thoughts turned towards the lady with whom I had quarrelled.
Hesitating, I went to her house, shaking the snow from my shoulders.
The curtains had not been drawn and there was a dim lamp burning.
Traced on the window I could see the maids warming a quilt by the fire—
But she, whom I loved, was not there,
And I was left standing deep in the snow.
Hesitating, I went to her house, shaking the snow from my shoulders.
The curtains had not been drawn and there was a dim lamp burning.
Traced on the window I could see the maids warming a quilt by the fire—
But she, whom I loved, was not there,
And I was left standing deep in the snow.
