On summer afternoons I sit Quiescent by you in the park, And idly watch the sunbeams gild And tint the ash-trees' bark. Or else I watch the squirrels frisk And chaffer in the grassy lane; And all the while I mark your voice Breaking with love and pain. I know a woman who would give Her chance of heaven to take my place; To see the love-light in your eyes, The love-glow on your face! And there's a man whose lightest word Can set my chilly blood afire; Fulfillment of his least behest Defines my life's desire. But he will none of me, nor I Of you. Nor you of her. 'Tis said The world is full of jests like these – I wish that I were dead.