Classic Poem

She loved me? Nay, she never did,
She only played at loving;
Her heart was quite too small and light
For aught but mild reproving.

I knew it even from the first,
Ere she grew cold and ashen—
For when we kissed I felt we missed
The nobler part of Passion.

There were no bonds of common cares,
No dreams, no kin devotions—
And in her heart there was no part
For wild and deep emotions.

Love? It was but a little gift
One gives to each newcomer—
It was a thing that came with Spring
And went within a Summer.