There is a voice I hear, I swear,
So much like yours—a trick unfair!
For it is like you are stopping by
To see me, like in another time.
Deny not the old you, so keenly aware
Of my presence, me standing there,
Avoiding eyes. I would be bright in face,
Vivacious, staged well, just in case
You turned your short or shaggy head of hair
(I do not know now which mask you wear),
Allowing the attempts of your stormy glance
To convince my daft heart of a hopeless chance—
Oh! Again I hear it and must turn my stare;
A new factor of sound entered in the affair:
Your voice, yes, coupled with your name,
Too much for me to keep up with the game
Of pretending that I do not know or care
About your presence, you standing there.