Lota - Part III

A poem on Unrequited Love, by Augusta Webster

Page 49

And Evelyn and Lota sat at rest
In the broad cedar's hush, and felt far off
From the world's hurry: and they talked of thoughts
They would not, sitting friendly in their room,
Have felt alone enough or near enough
To tell each other plainly: and at last
Lota poured out her heart.

But, when she said
"I love him, love him still," she said besides
"I love him so that it would comfort me
Beyond all words, if he would love again -
Oh Evelyn, if he would love my friend,
And she would love him ... as I think she could."
But Evelyn spoke resolute, though low,
"Not so, you dreamer. He and I no more
Could take love of our making for love's self
And keep life warm by it than we could think
We felt the rays hot from a tinsel sun
And sit to bask in it upon the stage.
Friends he and I, but never more than friends."

And as she spoke they heard a sound of steps,
And Gervase Lester, seeking them, was there.

"At Lota's door they told me where to come"
He answered to their wonderings; yet still
Wherefore he came to Woodley told them not:
But, walking slowly homeward with them, talked
Of his long useless search - till, step by step,
He seemed to lay the clue in Lota's hand,
Unwinding it as he had first unwound.


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