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Songs And Satires
The Question
By Edgar Lee Masters
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I
The sea moans and the stars are bright,
The leaves lisp ’neath a rolling moon.
I shut my eyes against the night
And make believe the time is June -
The June that left us over-soon.
This is the path and this the place
We sat and watched the moving sea,
And I the moonlight on your face.
We were not happy - woe is me,
Happiness is but memory!
It seemeth, now that you are gone,
My heart a measured pain doth keep: -
Are you now, as I am, alone?
Do you make merry, do you weep?
In whose arms are you now asleep?
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