Classic Poem

The great love that was not for her
Passed on, nor paused to see
The wistful eyes, the hands' vague stir,
The mouth's mute misery.

The little love she recked not of
Crept closer bit by bit,
Until for very lack of love,
She smiled and welcomed it.

NoThers to choose, to weigh and part
The greater from the less;
She only strove to fill a heart
That ached with emptiness.