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la vie c’est la vie On summer afternoons I sit Quiescent by you in the park, And idly watch the sunbeams gild And tint the ash-trees’ bark. Or else I watch the squirrels frisk And chaffer in the grassy lane; And all the while I mark your voice Breaking with love and pain. I know a woman who would give Her chance of heaven to take my place; To see the love-light in your eyes, The love-glow on your face! And there’s a man whose lightest word Can set my chilly blood afire; Fulfillment of his least behest Defines my life’s desire. But he will none of me. Nor I Of you. Nor you of her. ’Tis said The world is full of jests like these.— I wish that I were dead. Source: The Crisis, July 1922 262 ...

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