My Heart is Lame

By Charlotte Mary Mew

My heart is lame with running after yours so fast

Such a long way,

Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we passed

Perhaps to-day?

Home down the quiet evening roads under the quiet skies,

Not saying much,

You for a moment giving me your eyes

When you could bear my touch.

But not to-morrow. This has taken all my breath;

Then, though you look the same,

There may be something lovelier in Love's face in death

As your heart sees it, running back the way we came;

My heart is lame.