How Often
How often you see me in the street,
Stately words, we always meet;
I know not where you go in a hurry,
Sometimes sad, glad, serious
or desperate as the rest,
mostly you look cheerful and curious,
with same dresses and simple bag you carry,
you glance at me, perfectly the least,
but I stare at your beauty as you pass,
It is a little time until you vanish among the crowd,
I keep looking in search for you,
But you become a gentle scent in the mass,
And I burry a sigh which worth to be loud.
O, time as it is, I will wait another future,
When we can decide better possible right,
When we can ignore selfish pride of mortal nature,
And be faithful to lovely chance of ever delight,
When you hold me by the hand in the street,
And receive my attention, pacified when we meet.
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