Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3808/Enigma
My love to me is cold,And no more seeks my gaze; I wonder why!The smile of welcome that I loved of old No longer lights her eye.
One little week agoI asked no surer guide than Cupid's chart;I said, Your eyes reveal the depths below, And I can read your heart."
She let her shy gaze fall,And smiling asked, "Is then my face a screed,My brow an open love-letter, where all The world my thoughts may read?
Said I, "The world, I'll vow,Is blind! Myself alone may see the signs,And know the message written on your brow: I read between the lines."
My dear to me is cold;Gone somewhere is the love-light from her eye;And, when our ways meet, stately she doth hold Her course. I wonder why.