I
loved a modest maiden once,
And by her much did tarry;
And
then, just like a simpleton,
I asked her me to marry.
We’re
strangers now; we never speak,
No words the breach can cover;
Where
if I’d never married her,
I might still be her lover.
Oct.
21, ‘95
B.
Courier,
Feb.
2, ‘96
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