Lota - Part III

A poem on Unrequited Love, by Augusta Webster

Page 59

One who watched
The sunset on the far-off snowy hills
Said softly "And beyond is Italy."
And Lota answered "Italy, where once
We were not happy. We will go one day,
We and our Eva, and be happy there,
In one of these dear summer holidays."
And the child Eva, busy by their side
Making Papa a harebell crown, cried out
"To Italy, Papa's dear Italy!"
And ran to tell the others, Evelyn
And Ethel and tall Hugh and Marion,
Lota's young cousin-pupils of old days.
But Evelyn did not hear her: Evelyn sat
Apart beneath a nut-tree, and by her
Was Gervase speaking very earnestly
And low; and Evelyn smiled.

"Ah! once," he said,
"The day I found you in the churchyard where
I sought your cousin Lota, I heard words
Which did not name me, and yet I believed,
I scarce know why, they were of me. You said
'Friends, he and I, but never more than friends.'"

She said, and her soft voice was happy sweet,
"You did not love me then." And then she rose
And stole away alone.

And Gervase, wild
With sudden boisterousness, caught the child up
And tossed her in his arms and carried her,
She shrieking with her mirth. "Kiss me," he said,
"A kiss for Cousin Gervase. Eva, come
Let's race each other in before the rest.


 

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