On Pitz Languard.

A poem by John Milton Hay

I stood on the top of Pitz Languard,
And heard three voices whispering low,
Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward
Made swift dark shadows upon the snow.

First Voice.

I loved a girl with truth and pain,
She loved me not. When she said good-bye
She gave me a kiss to sting and stain
My broken life to a rosy dye.

Second Voice.

I loved a woman with love well tried, -
And I swear I believe she loves me still.
But it was not I who stood by her side
When she answered the priest and said "I will."

Third Voice.

I loved two girls, one fond, one shy,
And I never divined which one loved me.
One married, and now, though I can't tell why,
Of the four in the story I count but three.

The three weird voices whispered low
Where the eagles swept in their circling ward;
But only one shadow scarred the snow
As I clambered down from Pitz Languard.

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