We stood in the orchard one summer day,
   And the wind went by merrily,
Such beautiful things it seemed to say,
   And it laughed at you and me.
And the robin carolled his roundelay,
   And watched with a twinkling eye.

I looked at the trees, and the azure skies,
   And the grasses at our feet;
There was something hid in your also-dark eyes,
   That I did not dare to meet,
And it thrilled my heart with a vague surprise,
   That was strangely now and sweet.

But the thing I guessed in the orchard green
   I never heard you say,
A shadow fell over my lovelit dream
   And it rested there alway,
I did not know what came between,
   And I do not know to-day.

But a hard, dark pride came in your eyes,
   Where the love-light used to be,
And I know I looked my deep surprise,
   When their cold glance feel on me;
Then, as many a woman smiles and dies,
   I smiled lest the world should see.

But I often wish I knew the name
  Of the subtle, poison dart,
That killed your love, and turn to shame
   The love of my woman's heart.
But I know one thing--I was not to blame
   For aught that made us part.

I walked in the orchard alone to-day,
   And the wailing wind went by,
Such sorrowful things it seemed to say,
   And it sobbed with a heart-sick sigh.
And the robin begun a roundelay,
   But closed with a choking cry.

by Ella Wheeler

Arthur's Home Magazine (Dec. 1869): 315.

Provided courtesy of Janet Wanstrath

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