Sonnet XI

It might have been, but ah, it was too late

Doomed to be disappointed-and how long

Shall I sit and sing that soul-sick song

Of which my soul is sadly satiate?

Which curious counterchange of fiful fate

Led thee tome, for whom I had longed so long

Of many days and hours, choosing the wrong

Even that heart-sick hour called "too late"?

And thine eyes looked on me so piteously

Beautiful eyes, that thrilled and filled with tears

Tears even for one I'd yearned for years

And thine hand lingered a little lovingly

Even for this little love, long did I wait

And when it came it was too late

And when it came it was...

It was too late