Song - 2 - By Sara Teasdale

O woe is me, my heart is sad,
 For I should never know
If Love came by like any lad,
 Without his silver bow.

Or if he left his arrows sharp
 And came a minstrel weary,
I'd never tell him by his harp
 Nor know him for my dearie.

"O go your ways and have no fear,
 For tho' Love passes by,
He'll come a hundred times, my dear,
 Before your turn to die."