69 HEIRS UNAPPARENT

How very heartily I hate The man that will love you, Some day, somewhere, and more than I, And with a love more true;— Whom for that reason you will love As you may not love me,— Though I might hold your heart, I think, Held I one heart in fee. My dear, too many ghosts arise Between us when I woo, One mocking me with softer lips, And one with eyes more blue, And one with hands more fine than yours, And one with lovelier hair, Proclaiming:—She is fair enough, But then ... I too was fair. What of thy heart thou gavest me (“And me!”—“And me!”)—is thine No more to give again. That part Is mine.—(“And mine!”—“And mine!”) And he that plays with love too long Gets love of many-an-one, But is denied Love’s crowning grace, And can give love to none. Since these be truthful ghosts, I shrug And woo you without tears Or too much laughter, till with time A properer Prince appears, Whom very heartily I hate,— The man that will love you, Some day, somewhere, and more than I, And with a love more true.