ALMS
I water them and turn them south,
Í snap the dead brown from the stem;
But it is winter with your love,—
I only tend and water them,
There was a time I stood and watched
The small, ill-natured sparrows' fray;
I loved the beggar that I fed,
I eared for what he had to say,
I stood and watched him out of sight;
Today I reach around the door
And set a bowl upon the step;
My heart is what it was before,
But it is winter with your love;
I scatter crumbs upon the sill,
And close the window,—and the birds
May take or leave them, as they will.
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