Little head against my shoulder, 
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder,
  And up eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver,
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
  But, she sighed.

That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
  It implied.
- Not that she had ceased to love me,
None on earth she set above me;
  But she sighed.

She could not disguise a passion,
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
  If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered,
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
  Why she sighed.

Afterwards I knew her thoroughly,
And she loved me staunchly, truly,
  Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession,
  She had sighed.

It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November
  And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting,
Sometimes I sit half regretting
  That she sighed.