I saw him yesterday,
As he passed upon his way,
To and fro.
Not a single word he spake,
Though his heart seemed fit to break;
With its woe.

I understand his look,
Like the pages of a book;
Which I've read.
Oh! however the heart may ache,
Back the words we cannot take;
Now they're said.

How willingly I'd share
Half the burden of his care;
If I might.
A word's a cruel thing,
And how long we feel the sting;
Of a slight.

But I love him just the same;
May be he's not all to blame;
Perhaps 'twas me.
And I've just received a note,
Which with his own hand he wrote;
Let me see.

Oh! he's coming here to-night,
And we'll set the matter right;
He'll explain.
And we'll love each other better,
For the mistake in the letter;