THE HEART ON THE SLEEVE

I wore my heart upon my sleeve,

Tis most unwise, they say, to do —

But then how could I but believe

The foolish thing was safe with you?

Yet, had I known,‘ twas safer far

With wolves and tigers, the wild sea

Were kinder to it than you are —

Sweetheart, how you must laugh at me!

Yet am I glad I did not know

That creatures of such tender bloom,

Beneath their sanctuary snow,

Were such cold ministers of doom;

For had I known, as I began

To love you, ere we flung apart,

I had not been so glad a man

As holds his lady to his heart.

And am I lonely here to-night

With empty eyes, the cause is this,

Your face it was that gave me sight,

My heart ran over with your kiss.

Still do I think that what I laid

Before the altar of your face,

Flower of words that shall not fade,

Were worthy of a moment's grace;

Some thoughtless, lightly dropped largesse,

A touch of your immortal hand

Laid on my brow in tenderness,

Though you could never understand.

And yet with hungered lips to touch

Your feet of pearl and in your face

To look a little was over-much —

In heaven is no such fair a place

As, broken-hearted, at your feet

To lie there and to kiss them, sweet.