James Whitcomb Riley: The Rival

The Rival

James Whitcomb Riley

I so loved once, when Death came by I hid    Away my face, And all my sweetheart's tresses she undid    To make my hiding-place.
The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and    I turned me then To calm my love — kiss down her shielding hand    And comfort her again.
And lo! she answered not:  and she did sit    All fixedly, With her fair face and the sweet smile of it,    In love with Death, not me.