THE great love that was not for her Passed on, nor paused to see The wistful eyes, the hands' vague stir, The mouth's mute misery. The little love she recked not of Crept closer bit by bit, Until for very lack of love, She smiled and welcomed it. Not hers to choose, to weigh and part The greater from the less; She only strove to fill a heart That ached with emptiness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE MY BOOKS GO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE WOUND-DRESSER by WALT WHITMAN ON MEMORIAL DAY by EMMA BERGSTROM BUSINESS GIRLS by JOHN BETJEMAN FAREWELL TO AUTUMN by JULIA FIELD BROWN |