Pity
By Sara Teasdale
They never saw my lovers face,
They only know our love was brief,
Wearing awhile a windy grace
And passing like an autumn leaf.
They wonder why I do not weep,
They think it strange that I can sing,
They say, Her love was scarcely deep
Since it has left so slight a sting.
They never saw my love, nor knew
That in my hearts most secret place
I pity them as angels do
Men who have never seen Gods face.