From The Topeka State Journal, June 19, 1915. By Willard Wattler.
When I would go a-walking
In springtime on the green
As other hearty lads may do
With loves to look and lean,
There is a hand, a wasted hand
That slips our hands between.
And when I bend above you
And lean to touch your lips,
Another face is lifted
As the white heron dips,
When all the sailor lads come home
Who man the lonely ships.
And were we two together
Too close to breathe or stir,
With stars our wakeful candles
Upon strewn boughs of fir,
I could not lie beside you
And not remember her.
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