Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And if I came, ah, if I came again, / And laid my hand on your forgetful heart, / Where once it lay so warm, could the pulse start, / Remembering Spring? Now, at the sound of rain, / I do but turn a little in disdain / To see the flowers renew their lovely part, / Blooming afresh. For memory holds no smart, / Love aches no more to know how it was slain.
Yet if I came to you who heed no more / My name upon the wind? Love's ghost, lean near, / I have a word that only you may hear.