 | Collected poems |  |
AN OLD STORY
Strange that I did not know him then,
That friend of mine!
I did not even show him then
One friendly sign;
That friend of mine!
I did not even show him then
One friendly sign;
But cursed him for the ways he had
To make me see
My envy of the praise he had
For praising me.
To make me see
My envy of the praise he had
For praising me.
I would have rid the earth of him
Once, in my pride. . . .
I never knew the worth of him
Until he died.
Once, in my pride. . . .
I never knew the worth of him
Until he died.
| Collected poems | |