"She can`t be unhappy," you said, "The smiles are like stars in her eyes, And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies." "Is she unhappy?" you said— But who has ever known Another`s heartbreak— All he can know is his own; And she seems hushed to me, As hushed as though Her heart were a hunter`s fire Smothered in snow.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
