On Pitz Languard
I stand on the top of Pitz Languard,
by John Hay
And heard three voices whispering low,
Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward
Made swift dark shadows upon the snow.
I loved a girl with truth and pain,
She loved me not. When she said good-by
She gave me a kiss to sting and stain
My broken life to a rosy dye.
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."
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.