Ii

How many things by the heart are forgotten! Sad or sweet, or little or great! And how one thing that could mean nothing Stays knocking still at the heart’s red gate! For many things has my heart forgotten, But this one thing can never forget-- The face of a girl, a moment met, Who smiled in my eyes; whom I passed in pity; A flower-like face, with weeping wet, Flung to the streets of a mighty city.