The Passer-by
Step lightly across the floor,
And somewhat more tender be.
There were many that passed my door,
Many that sought after me.
I gave them the passing word—
Ah, why did I give thee more?
I gave thee what could not be heard,
What had not been given before;
The beat of my heart I gave....
And I give thee this flower on my grave.
My face in the flower thou mayst see.
Step lightly across the floor.
Edith M. Thomas