By the Sea
by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
Beside an ebbing northern seaWhile stars awaken one by one,We walk together, I and he.
He woos me with an easy graceThat proves him only half sincere;A light smile flickers on his face.
To him love-making is an art,And as a flutist plays a flute,So does he play upon his heart
A music varied to his whim.He has no use for love of mine,He would not have me answer him.
To hide my eyes within the nightI watch the changeful lighthouse gleamAlternately with red and white.
My laughter smites upon my ears,So one who cries and wakes from sleepKnows not it is himself he hears.
What if my voice should let him knowThe mocking words were all a sham,And lips that laugh could tremble so?
What if I lost the power to lie,And he should only hear his nameIn one low, broken cry?
