Explore "WON" by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, when I would have loved you, Dear, / The sun of winter hung more near; / Yet not so sweet, so sweet, so sweet, / The wild-rose reddening at my feet.
Your lips had learned a golden word, / You sang a song that all men heard, / Oh, love is fleet, the strain is long. / Who stays the singer from her song?
Across my path the red leaves whirled. / Dared I to kneel with all the world? / How came I, then, to clasp you, Sweet, / And find a woman at my feet?