Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 197

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CXCVII MISTAKEN
I never thought that you could mourn As other women do.A blossom from your garland torn,A jewel dropped that you had worn, What could that be to you?
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You never heard the human sound Of wailing and despair.Nor faithful proved nor faithless found,You lived and moved in beauty crowned, Content with being fair.
If I had known those eyes could weep That used to sparkle so,You had been mine to love, to keep,But all too late I probed the deep And all too late I know.

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