Cross Roads

THERE ARE SUCH WEARY LITTLE LINES

     There are such weary little lines about the mouth of
        you,
     Such tragic little mirthless lines—they mock at
        dreams come true,
     And twist your lips when you would smile, until all
        joy is dead,
     And I, who want to laugh with you, am fain to
        weep instead!

     There are such dreary little lines about the mouth of
        you,
     They make me want to whisper that summer sky is
        blue,
     And that the rain is like a lance of silver through
        the air,
     And that the flowers in the lane are growing tall
        and fair!

     There are such tired little lines about the mouth of
        you—
     As if you thought that life was cold and loving
        friends were few....
     They are such lonely little lines I think that I, some
        day,
     Will creep close to you in the dusk, and kiss them
        quite away!