The Book of American Negro Poetry/La Vie C'est la Vie
For other versions of this work, see La Vie C'est la Vie.
LA VIE C'EST LA VIE
On summer afternoons I sit Quiescent by you in the park, And idly watch the sunbeams gild And tint the ash-trees' bark.
Or else I watch the squirrels frisk And chaffer in the grassy lane; And all the while I mark your voice Breaking with love and pain.
I know a woman who would give Her chance of heaven to take my place; To see the love-light in your eyes, The love-glow on your face!
And there's a man whose lightest word Can set my chilly blood afire; Fulfilment of his least behest Defines my life's desire.
But he will none of me, Nor I Of you. Nor you of her. 'Tis said The world is full of jests like these.— I wish that I were dead.