Because you could say the things I wanted to, I loved you: Sheep on a green hill, A lonely road, Dark water by a mill; Cows at pasture-bars, And low-hung stars. Because you could say the things I felt, Sharp as daggers in my heart, I wanted you to speak for me. But you sang only your own songs, Sang them more and more; While I sat mute and lonely By our cottage door. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LATE SINGER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SHEPHERD, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE FEMALE CONVICT by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON A HEALTH by EDWARD COATE PINKNEY |