From the Newark Evening Star, October 30, 1914.
Let the flowers die by the wayside,
For why should they live while I
Am dying of love unrequited
With a tear in my hazel eye?
As I laid my fair head on his bosom,
And put my small hand in his hand,
I detected the odor of perfume—
I knew it was Natalie’s brand.
O, the birdies are resting in treetops,
The insects are wooing in flowers,
Girls are dreaming behind counters in city shops,
While grief, bitter grief, fills my hours.
O, Natalie, Natalie, Natalie,
How could you treat me so?
That little spray of perfumery
Has ruined a young life with woe.
And soon the black Kalamazoo river,
With the stars shining brightly above,
Will be the white shroud of a maiden
Who could not live without love.