"WE CANNOT TOUCH."
It was a city holiday, So youths and maidens wandered by, With twining arms, and laughter gay, While in the park alone sat I. (Is it because they love so much That thus they talk and thus they touch ?) One summer sixty years ago, A blue day beamed abovo tho heather; The loch lay breathless far below Where whispering willows sigh together. And we—poor cowards —loved so much, Wo could not speak, we dared not touch. Now summer comes and summer rain, And I live on, though you are dead; And memory ia a gnawing pain, And yearning (we were never wed.) So though I lovg you just as much, You cannot hear, wo cannot touch. ~F. C. in Chambers' Journal.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH19270820.2.201.48.11
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19720, 20 August 1927, Page 7 (Supplement)
Word Count
124"WE CANNOT TOUCH." New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19720, 20 August 1927, Page 7 (Supplement)
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