Explore "Platonic" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I knew it the first of the summer, / I knew it the same at the end, / That you and your love were plighted, / But couldn't you be my friend? / Couldn't we sit in the twilight, / Couldn't we walk on the shore / With only a pleasant friendship / To bind us, and nothing more?
There was not a word of folly / Spoken between us two, / Though we lingered oft in the garden / Till the roses were wet with dew. / We touched on a thousand subjects -- / The moon and the worlds above, -- / And our talk was tinctured with science, / And everything else, save love.