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Faint Heart's Lament

Wilder Dwight Quint
©Yoga People, LLC 2017


She would not take a kiss - a miss
Whose mouth was sweet with taunting,
Whose lashes swept o'er rose-lit cheeks
Where Cupid's flag was flaunting.

Ah, me! the golden time went by,
Her head, half-turned, said plainly
That wishes such as mine that night
Were running riot vainly.

But now-somehow, I'm sure of this,-
She would not take a kiss amiss.