In the rain,
Where laughter and frown smeared our faces
As the pomegranate failed to bud.
And with shuddering kneels we carried the basket of uncertainty home ...
Suppose, my dear, that you were I
And by your side your sweetheart sate;
Suppose you noticed by and by
The distance 'twixt you were too great;
Now tell me, dear, what would you do?
I know-and so do you.