There are such weary little lines about the mouth of
you,
Such tragic little mirthless lines—they mock at
dreams come true,
And twist your lips when you would smile, until all
joy is dead,
And I, who want to laugh with you, am fain to
weep instead!

There are such dreary little lines about the mouth of
you,
They make me want to whisper that summer sky is
blue,
And that the rain is like a lance of silver through
the air,
And that the flowers in the lane are growing tall
and fair!

There are such tired little lines about the mouth of
you—
As if you thought that life was cold and loving
friends were few....
They are such lonely little lines I think that I, some
day,
Will creep close to you in the dusk, and kiss them
quite away!