Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Je Ne Vous Aime Pas

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

JE NE VOUS AIME PAS.

"NE m'aimes-tu pas?" you once asked, O Élise,
And I'll tell you the truth—all the truth, if you please;
For a year—yes, a year now has over us flown,
Since I told you I loved you—and loved you alone!

I have lingered, my sweet, all entranced by your side;
I have gazed in your eyes that the dark lashes hide;
I've been thrilled by the touch of those soft finger-tips;
I have tasted the rapture that breathes from your lips.

I have thought of you oft in the still, starry night.
Your face flickers up in the wan fire-light;
And oft in my dreamings a woman I see,
With soft hazel eyes, bearing kisses to me.

Wild reveries these! Foolish fancies at best!
Can kisses and dreams fill the void of the breast?
Beware, O fond youth! Look thou deeper by far,
Where tenderness, truth, and unselfishness are!

Your red ruby lips asked a question, ma chère;
So I gazed in your eyes, but no question was there.
"Ah, she trifles!" said I, "and her smile is deceit;
And woe to the Strephon that sighs at her feet."

Then, Élise, when you ask if I love you, I say—
Tho' perhaps it is cruel—"My answer is, nay."
But since lips framed the query, tho' cold was your eye,
To your lips in a kiss I will give the reply.