So she has found him. Answered are her prayers.
He is what I refused to try to be.
She's his, he's hers and happiness is theirs:
theirs for the having, theirs the ecstasy.
Spring is not yet come but soon the snow
will sink down to the rose roots with my tears.
Joy for them will bloom while breezes blow
my hopeless sighs far distant from her ears.
Yet this was all foretold by those who see
into the Spirit World with secret eye:
sweet for these new lovers, but for me,
a broken heart and none will tell me why.