PITY

By Sara Teasdale

THEY never saw my lover’s face,

They only know our love was brief,

Wearing awhile a windy grace

And passing like an autumn leaf.

They wonder why I do not weep,

They think it strange that I can sing,

They say, “Her love was scarcely deep

Since it has left so slight a sting.”

They never saw my love, nor knew

That in my heart’s most secret place

I pity them as angels do

Men who have never seen God’s face.