by Luis G. Dato

I will not cry at parting for my pain,
Though henceforth through the endless days alone
I whom you taught so shall not call my own
Your love nor turn back to your paths again;
I shall not weep above my cup of wine
With bitterness on going though ’tis night,
Nor though I loved you, deem it now not right
That others love you whom I loved as mine.

The leaves blow down upon the empty street,
Like ghosts of loves no word of man may tell,
Lay here the mark where once to meet was sweet,
Where ill-starred loves up-bounding flower fell,
The wind and leaves are presage of farewell,
So then forget, since to forget is meet.

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