Classic Poem

Love hath querulous grown and sad—
We should have parted yesterday;
A wistful lass and a tender lad—
Pity it was we chose to stay.

Over-long was the joy we had—
Why we wearied what man may say?
Love hath querulous grown and sad—
We should have parted yesterday.

O, to have said when hearts were glad,
“Kiss me and go,” as lovers may.
Now we sneer that the dream was mad.
Now we sneer that the dream was mad,
Yawn and wonder and turn away.
Love hath querulous grown and sad—
We should have parted yesterday.

The rose that grew in the nun's white window
Ever leaned to the close-shut pane,
And yearned and died—unsatisfied—
For touch of the sun and rain.

And the little novice kissed it, dead,
And the slow tears stung her hand;
But why she too its secret knew,
Ah, who may understand?