The Rural Maid

THIS IS A POEM BY FERNANDO M. MARAMAG.

1

Thy glance, sweet maid, when first we met -

Had left a heart that aches for thee,

I feel the pain of fond regret -

Thy heart, perchance, is not for me.

2

We parted: though we met no more,

My dream are dreams of thee, fair maid;

I think of thee, my thoughts implore

The hours my lips on thine are laid.

3

Forgive these words that love impart,

And pleading, bare the poet's breast;

And if a rose with thorns thou art,

Yet on my breast that rose may rest.

4

I know not what to name thy charms,

Thou art half human, half divine;

And if I could hold thee in my arms,

I know both heaven and earth were mine.