Part 2 — MAKE BELIEVE

Kiss me, though you make believe; Kiss me, though I almost know You are kissing to deceive: Let the tide one moment flow Backward ere it rise and break, Only for poor pity's sake!

Give me of your flowers one leaf, Give me of your smiles one smile, Backward roll this tide of grief Just a moment, though, the while, I should feel and almost know You are trifling with my woe.

Whisper to me sweet and low; Tell me how you sit and weave Dreams about me, though I know It is only make believe! Just a moment, though 'tis plain You are jesting with my pain.

Alice Cary [1820-1871]