When my lover put the sea between us
And went wandering in Italy
My poor silly heart miscalled his journey—
Towns of Spain and Italy he stayed in,
Each and all of them to me unknown;
How could he find pleasure being a lover,
Truly I was not as fair as Venice,
Noble as Siena, strange as Rome.
Certainly he loved Milan and Florence
More than home.
I believed his absence had estranged us
And across the heart-dividing sea
Sent him word that I no longer loved him.
Came his answer after months of waiting
Echoing my letter, lie for lie.
Truth or lies I know not. Which unfaithful,
He or I.
More verses by Lesbia Harford
- Why Does She Put Me To Many Indignities
- Pat Wasn'T Pat Last Night At All
- Tall Trees Along The Road,
- They Say — Priests Say
- Today They Made A Bonfire