I heed not that my earthly lot
⁠Hath—little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
⁠In the hatred of a minute:—
I mourn not that the desolate
⁠Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
⁠Who am a passer by.

Originally posted 2018-07-10 09:57:40.