A QUOI BON DIRE.
Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
but I.
So I, as I grow stiff and cold
To this and that say Good-bye too;
And everybody sees that I am old
But you.
And one fine morning in a sunny lane
Some boy and girl will meet and kiss and swear
That nobody can love their way again
While over there
You will have smiled, I shall have tossed your hair.
The writer of these beautiful words was Charlotte Mew, 1869-1928.
I don't know what the title, A quoi bon dire, means.
