|William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (18781962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920. 1920.|
|Lilla Cabot Perry|
SHE said, Lift high the cup!
| Of her arms weariness she gave no sign,|
|But, smiling, raised it up|
| That none might see or guess it held no wine.|
FORGIVE ME NOT!
Forgive me not! Hate me and I shall know
|Some of Loves fire still burns within your breast!|
|Forgiveness finds its home in hearts at rest,|
| On dead volcanoes only lies the snow.|
One deep red rose I dropped into his grave,
| So small a thing to give so great a friend!|| 10|
|Yet well he knew it was my heart I gave|
| And must fare on without it to the end.|